A Bunch of Ridiculousness
by Kinsey Adelaide
Summary: Pretty much what the title implies. Fluff and such about Bruce, Dick, Jason, Tim, and Damian. Dick will probably get the most "screen time" because he's my favorite!
1. Chuck E Cheese

**I do not own; DC does, obviously.**

**The beginning is somewhat based on some lines at the end of another one of my stories, "The Bugatti." Reading it is not necessary, though.**

* * *

"He looks like a Rottweiler," Tim sniggered.

"Hmmm." Dick rubbed his chin thoughtfully. "You're right, Tim. He kind of does."

"He'll never get it right," Tim declared.

"Now, Tim, we mustn't ever give up hope." Dick turned to his youngest brother. "Okay, Little D, a little more pathetic-ness and a LOT less ferocious-ness."

Damian made a slightly different face. "Now?"

Dick shook his head. "Not quite. More wounded-animal sadness in the eyes and more pout in the lips."

Damian attempted the look.

"Now he looks like a Rottweiler in need of a facelift," Tim hooted.

"When I'm done with you, Drake, you'll be in need of a facelift," Damian hissed, taking a step towards his brother.

Dick caught Damian before he could advance any farther. "Now, now. We're only trying to help. You said you wanted to learn how to do puppy-dog eyes."

"I didn't realize it would be so difficult," Damian snarled.

"I think we need to use the mirror again," Tim announced, his laughing fit over. He went over to the table and retrieved a large mirror.

Dick sat next to Damian while Tim held the mirror up to their faces. "Okay, Damian, make your puppy-dog eyes and I'll make mine. Go."

Seconds later, Dick was making expert puppy-dog eyes at his reflection. Damian, for lack of a better word, was making a face.

Tim laughed again, pointing at Damian. "He's terrible, Dick. A thousand times worse than me!"

Dick looked at Damian's reflection. The kid looked like an angry basset hound – droopy in all the wrong places and with a fire in his eyes. Dick sighed.

"Damian, you need to pout like this. See?" He demonstrated. "Not like this." Dick attempted to "pout" like Damian, but improper pouting was so foreign to him that he couldn't get it correct. Tim began laughing again.

"Okay, little D, let's try this again. And pout."

Damian looked like he was turning his mouth inside out. It was most definitely not cute.

"Let's work on the eyes, shall we?" Dick suggested.

"What's wrong with my eyes, Grayson?" Damian hissed.

"Umm, you look like a ravenous tiger. Try to up the Bambi factor. Like this." Dick demonstrated. Tim just shook his head; his older brother could turn it on and off like a faucet.

Damian sneered. "You look pathetic."

Dick threw his hands in the air. "That's the point! You're trying to melt his heart, not make him think you want to eat it."

Damian turned his nose in the air. "I will not stoop to that level."

"Like you're so superior," Tim snorted.

Dick was slightly confused. "I thought you wanted to learn my tricks for getting your own way."

"Not if they're so ridiculous."

"I believe you mean ridiculously effective."

Damian crossed his arms and turned his back on Dick. "I have changed my mind. I will no longer be requiring your services."

"My services?"

"So you really think you're going to convince Bruce, all by yourself, to let you go to the arcade, huh?" Tim asked.

"I will do it," Damian growled. "I just need more time."

Dick and Tim exchanged "yeah right" glances.

"How many times have you already asked him if you can go to the arcade with Colin?" Dick asked gently.

"Three… no, four times. Twice yesterday and twice this morning. So, four times," Damian pronounced, tilting his head slightly to look at Dick out of the corner of his eye.

Dick shook his head. "Little D, when I was ten Wally invited me to go to the arcade in Central City with him and Barry. And you know how many times I had to ask Bruce? Once."

Tim raised his eyebrows. "You are a god."

"I don't believe you." Damian snapped his head, refusing to look at Dick.

"Well, here's how it went down. I went up to Bruce and asked if I could go to the arcade with Wally and Barry. Of course, he said no at first. He doesn't really like arcades or people going places with Barry Allen. Anyway, after he said no the first time, I climbed up into his lap and asked again. He said no again but his voice was softer. He was beginning to crack. And it's all in the tone." Dick paused to point at Damian and make sure he had his attention. "It's _all_ in the tone. You need to listen to how he's saying it, not what he's saying. Anyway, I knew I had him. So I snuggled into his lap a little further, made my best puppy-dog eyes and said "Pleeeease?" Five minutes later, I was strapped to Barry Allen's back on my way to Central City. With fifty dollars in my pocket, I might add." Dick sat back, smiling smugly at the memory and the efficiency of his system.

"Dang," Tim breathed. He had never been able to win Jack Drake over like that; he had occasional successes with Bruce, but not like Dick.

"Fifty bucks," Damian snorted in an attempt to denigrate Dick's accomplishment.

Dick frowned. "D, I don't think you realize how far fifty bucks could take you in an arcade when I was ten. Wally and I were at that arcade over five hours and we played every game at least twice. It was awesome."

Damian growled. "Maybe Father just likes you better," he pouted. He had meant to mope under his breath, but the sharp ears of his brothers heard him.

"Definitely," Tim agreed cheekily before Dick could respond. "I've often thought that. I mean, how could Bruce not like Dick better than you?"

"Tim!" Dick cried, aghast. "Completely uncalled-for. We're all his sons. Bruce loves us all equally."

Tim raised a skeptical eyebrow. "Even Jason? 'Cause I really think he should love us" – he gestured between himself and Dick – "more than him."

Dick huffed and rolled his eyes. "Yes, even Jason. It's what Dads do."

"Fine then." Damian turned around to face Dick and Tim. He locked eyes with Dick. "Get permission for me."

Dick shrugged. "Okay, sure. Call Colin and tell him I'll take you guys to the arcade."

"I didn't invite you!" Damian shrieked.

"Well, I'm not going to wait in the car or go shoe shopping like somebody's mom. Besides, we love arcades. Right, Tim?"

"Oh, yeah." Tim grinned. "I'm gonna kick your butt."

"Not on Dance Dance Revolution, you won't!"

"Fine. On everything except that."

Dick nodded. "Probably true." He couldn't hold a candle to Tim's video-game skills – except when the game was about kinetic energy. He cleaned up then.

Damian was just staring, annoyed at his brothers.

"So, are you going to call Colin?" Tim asked, wondering why Damian wasn't already on the phone.

Damian scowled. "I can't. Father took my cell phone so I couldn't orchestrate a rendezvous with Colin and sneak out."

Dick chuckled, reaching out to ruffle Damian's hair before his brother yanked his hand away. "Use my phone." He pulled his cell out of his pocket. "Do you know his number, by any chance?"

Damian snatched the phone. "Of course. Why wouldn't I?"

"Umm, because the phone remembers all your numbers. I can barely remember the Manor's number anymore," Dick admitted.

"That's because you're trying to remember the numbers of too many hot girls," Tim teased.

Dick shook his head and grinned. "Again, the phone does that for you." He elbowed Tim and then started tickling him, just to pass the time. Damian rolled his eyes and dialed Colin's number.

"Colin? This is Damian. My brothers will take us to the arcade."

There was a pause on Damian's end. "How old? Dick's in his twenties."

A loud and excited "Excellent" burst from the phone, causing Dick to cease his tickling and focus on Damian's conversation.

"Will Dick take us to Chuck E Cheese?" Colin asked. Unluckily for Damian, Colin had been talking extremely loudly and Dick and Tim overheard everything.

"Yes!" Dick shouted excitedly. "We haven't been to Chuck E Cheese in forever!"

"He'll take us," Damian ground into the phone. Going to the arcade with Dick and Tim would have been bad enough, but Chuck E Cheese? He just hoped his brothers didn't embarrass him too much.

* * *

"Bruce!"

"Come in, Dick." Bruce was seated at his desk in the study, going over Wayne Enterprises paperwork.

"Tim and I are taking Damian and his little friend to Chuck E Cheese's." Dick gave Bruce a toned-down version of the puppy-dog eyes, just to ensure things went his way.

Bruce looked a tad surprised. "Are you sure you want to do that?"

"Yeah, why not? Little D said you wouldn't let him go to the arcade with his friend. I figured it was an issue of supervision, so I offered to go. Then his friend wanted to go to Chuck E Cheese's instead, since they've got an over-eighteen going now." He pointed at himself.

"All right," Bruce said, taking out his wallet. He pulled out a wad of twenties and fifties and handed it to Dick. "That should be $200, but count it and check."

"We are just going to Chuck E Cheese, not the Diamond Exchange," Dick commented as he accepted the cash.

"You couldn't buy anything for only $200 at the Diamond Exchange," Bruce replied. "Besides you'll need pizza to feed four boys."

"That's like two pizzas, not a dozen! I realize Chuck E Cheese is a bit overpriced, but still."

"Just take the money."

Dick counted out the cash. "It's $220," he said, offering back one of the twenty-dollar bills.

Bruce waved it off. "Keep it. Have fun. Just make sure Damian doesn't have any cola. I don't approve of soft drinks for youngsters."

Dick sighed, remembering many a pizza-party with the Teen Titans in which he had been forced to drink water while the rest had pop. "Okay."

"To be honest, I'd prefer it if none of you had any cola," Bruce smirked.

"Awww, Bruce, I'm an adult and I don't get that jittery anymore!"

"Just the same, you with any amount of jitters is not exactly fun."

"Fine." Dick stuck the money Bruce had generously provided in his wallet. "Can I take the Porsche 911?"

"Yes."

Dick did a little jig of joy and headed for the door.

"And, Dick, don't let Damian bring home any obnoxious arcade toys."

* * *

**I guess next will be fun times at Chuck E Cheese. I feel like this has probably been done before (although I haven't read any specific stories), so apologizes if I encroach on anybody's turf.**

**Does Damian have a little friend in the comics named Colin? I thought I saw that somewhere, but it doesn't really matter. Damian's friend is more of a plot device in this tale.**

**And isn't it weird that you have to have someone over-18 with you to get into Chuck E Cheese? Seems like you should need to have an under-18 to get in.**


	2. Chuck E Cheese 2

After an hour and a half of fun and games, Damian and Colin were ready for a pizza break. Dick was more than happy to step away from the arcade. Although he had beaten Tim three times on Dance Dance Revolution, Tim had killed him in all the other games. It was downright demoralizing – or it would have been, if Dick hadn't loved Tim so much and cared about video games so little. But even if he wasn't demoralized, he needed a break.

"Aww, they want pizza now?" Tim whined. "I'm just about to beat you in Zombie Apocalypse 5 again."

"Tell you what: I forfeit."

Tim snorted. "Like that even makes a difference."

"If it makes so little difference, then, you can finish saving the world while I get pizza."

"Fine."

"You want pepperoni?"

"I guess. Do they have any vegetables or anything?"

"Tim, it's Chuck E Cheese."

"Right. Pepperoni is fine."

* * *

When Tim joined Dick, Colin, and Damian at their cafeteria-style table near the performance stage, he was greeted by two large pepperoni pizzas – one of which was almost gone. Damian, meanwhile, was simultaneously eating and guarding his small pizza.

"Why'd he get his own?" Tim asked, sitting down next to Dick.

"He wanted anchovies." Dick made a face. "Can you even believe they have those here?"

Before Tim could reply, Colin quietly stated, "They actually don't. Damian threatened the clerk when you weren't looking."

Dick looked both shocked and amused. "Little D, you didn't."

"I plead the Fifth," Damian coolly replied, before jamming more pizza in his mouth.

Dick just shook his head. "I guess that explains why it took so long to even get the pizza."

"It took a long time to get the pizza!" Tim cried. "It's almost gone!"

Dick casually picked up another slice. "You were killing zombies for a long time."

Tim frowned and started eating his pizza. "Did you get anything to drink?"

Dick brightened. "Oh, yeah." He reached under the table and with a flourished produced a two-liter bottle. "Behold, Zesti Cola."

Tim's frown deepened. "I bet Bruce doesn't want us to have that."

But Dick was already pouring out cups and passing them around. "Oh please."

Tim took a swallow of cola. It was good. "Correction: I bet Bruce doesn't want _you_ to have any."

Dick winked at Tim. "I'll only have a little."

A short while later, with the pizza and the cola mostly gone, sounds began to emanate from behind the curtained stage. A robotic-mouse voice announced that the "Chuck E Cheese and Friends Band Show" was going to start in two minutes.

Damian's expression was a priceless mix of horror and disgust. Colin, on the other hand, looked somewhat interested. Tim didn't care much either way, but Dick was ready for the whole experience – robotic singing animals included.

Damian started to get up. "Let's go, Colin. This show will, no doubt, be an offense to human decency."

"Okay," Colin said reluctantly. He kind of wanted to stay, but he didn't want to look bad in front of his friend.

Dick, ever the performer, sprang into action. Reaching across the table, he clamped down on Damian's hands before his brother could leave the table. "Dami! Don't leave. I want to share this moment with you."

Damian's eyes narrowed. "Just because you want to view this travesty doesn't mean I have to."

Dick pouted. "Awww, Little D, I want you to be with me so we can enjoy the show together as a family." Dick gave Damian a pitiful glance. "Please?"

Damian quickly glanced around him. Knowing Tim would be no help, he said, "Fine. But only if Colin agrees."

Dick barely managed to hide his grin. Damian had no idea Colin wasn't on his side.

Dick turned to Colin. "Please, stay, Colin. Please."

Colin hesitated. He really did want to see the show, but he really, really didn't want Damian to hate him.

Dick looked imploring at Colin (he didn't think he needed to go full puppy dog on the kid). "Pleeeeease?"

Colin gulped and nodded his head. "Okay, sure."

"Colin!" Damian snapped.

"Aww, Damian, your brother really wants us to stay."

Dick nodded. "I do."

"Couldn't we stay – just for him? For a little bit?" When Damian still looked rather unmoved Colin added, "He did buy us all this pizza."

"Fine," Damian huffed, sitting back down. He glared across the table. "Grayson, you're pathetic."

"You'll thank me later when you're treasuring this precious memory."

"Shhh," Tim hissed, not-so-secretly pleased that Damian had been thwarted. "Show time!"

* * *

Although he would never admit, Dick and Tim could tell that Damian had enjoyed the show. His eyes had been completely riveted to the stage throughout the performance. He seemed to like the show even more than Colin did. Despite his enjoyment, as soon as the curtain closed Damian huffily stood up and glared at Dick.

"Now that the mouse is done wasting our time, can we please return to our games?"

"Wasting your time, eh?" Tim asked, wiggling his eyebrows at Damian. "You seemed to like the show just fine."

"Drake, if you think I liked that abomination, it just proves what an idiot you are! Such puerile amusements are beneath me."

"Beneath you, huh? Kind of like how your foot was tapping in time to the music _beneath_ the table?"

Before anyone else could react, Damian had leaped across the table and was at Tim's throat. "Take it back, Drake. Take it back!"

"Damian!" Dick snapped, "Get off him right now. That's no way to behave towards your brother. And in front of your friend. Have you no manners?"

Damian snarled but released Tim. "Thanks, Alfred," Tim smiled at Dick. "Is my throat okay?"

Dick peered at Tim's throat. "Looks okay to me. But," he turned to Damian, "Little D, you can't do stuff like this."

Damian looked at the floor and crossed his arms. "Well, he shouldn't mock me."

Dick sighed and glanced at Tim. "Well, Tim's sorry too. Now I want you both to apologize on the count of three."

Before either brother could protest, Dick began to count. "One… two… THREE!"

"Sorry!" Tim and Damian shouted in unison.

"That's better," Dick said contentedly. "But since you resorted to violence, Little D, you need to be punished." Dick paused for a moment to think. "Give fifty tickets to Colin."

"To Colin?" Damian snorted. "Why him?"

"Because he had to witness this unfortunate scene. Now give him the tickets."

Damian sighed but handed over the tickets. He didn't really mind giving them to his friend (he would have protested to no end, though, if he had been required to give them to Tim).

Colin politely, and somewhat abashedly, thanked Damian for the tickets. He then attempted to stuff them into his pockets, only to find he had too many to fit.

Seeing Colin's plight, Dick suddenly remembered something. "Ahhh, Colin, I have just the solution." With a flourish, Dick produced two lunch-sized paper bags, one labeled "Colin" while the other was labeled "Damian." "Put your tickets in here, little buddy."

"Thanks, Dick." Colin eagerly took the bag and dumped his tickets in, cleaning out his pockets.

Damian snatched his bag from Dick and put his tickets inside. "Grayson, how are you going to keep our tickets safe?"

Tim gaped at Damian. "It's Chuck E Cheese! You really think someone's going to steal your tickets?"

"I will not deign to consider what depravities these urchins are capable of. I simply expect my tickets to be kept safe."

Dick sighed. "I'll hide them under my coat at the table. They'll be fine; everyone leaves their tickets at the table."

Damian looked at Colin. "It's okay, Damian. Everyone does that."

"Very well." And Damian handed the two bags of tickets over to Dick.

Dick tucked the bags inside his coat and placed his coat on the bench. He then laid Tim's coat on top of his own for added security.

"Ready to return to the games now, guys?

"I thought you'd never ask," Damian muttered.

Dick, Damian, Tim, and Colin waltzed over to a basketball game. "Let's play this," Damian suggested, envisioning himself annihilating Colin with his superior athletic skills.

"Okay," Colin cheerily agreed, reaching into his pocket for a token. "Oh no!"

"What's wrong?" Damian demanded.

"I lost my tokens."

Dick waved his hand in the air. "No worries, Colin. Take some of mine." Dick handed the younger boy a handful of tokens.

"Thank you," Colin said, accepting the tokens. "But I was saving those. Could... could you look for them?" Colin finished shyly.

"Sure," Dick replied. He looked at Tim. "Watch these two, will you?"

"Yeah," Tim said unenthusiastically.

"Thanks," Dick called as he hurried back to the table. Once there, he began to search the benches and floor for the tokens. He came up empty handed. With a sigh, he began to crawl around under the table again, valiantly hunting for the tokens.

Suddenly, a voice interrupted his musings. "Are you looking for these?' Dick peeked out from under the table to see an outstretched hand holding five tokens.

"Yes, thanks," he replied, wriggling out beneath the bench to face an adolescent girl.

The girl handed Dick the tokens. "I found them on the floor. I figured someone would come back for them."

"I'm surprised you didn't use them," Dick said with a smile.

"They weren't mine to use," the girl replied seriously. "That would be stealing."

Dick grinned broadly. "Well, thanks for the tokens." He reached into his wallet and pulled out one of the many still-unused twenties Bruce had given him. He handed it to the girl. "A reward."

The girl's eyes widened. "I can't accept that. It's twenty dollars!"

"I realize that good citizenship is its own reward, but sometimes it's nice to have a little something tangible."

"In that case…" the girl paused, pocketed the twenty, and glanced around. "Would you do me a favor?"

Dick shrugged. "Sure, provided it isn't illegal."

"That girl over there," the adolescent paused to point at another girl who looked to be about her own age. Unlike the girl who had found the tokens, the other girl exuded mean-girl glamour. She was like a miniaturized version of one of Bruce's bimbos.

Dick nodded. "Uh-huh."

"Well, she goes to my school, and she's kind of a b-word." Dick smiled at that. "Anyway, when she walks past us could you kiss me? It will give me some major cred at school."

Dick raised an eyebrow. "How old are you?"

"Thirteen."

"Uhhh, I'll give you a kiss on the cheek but no more."

The girl considered the offer. "Can I have a hug, too?"

"As long as you promise not to have me arrested, sure."

"Deal." The girl stuck out her hand to shake. "Oh, here she comes now. Lean in." Dick followed her orders. "Aaaaand, now!"

Dick gave the teen a quick, chaste kiss on the cheek. She immediately launched herself at him for a hug, so he hugged back. Dick could almost feel the mean girl's eyes boring into his back. He disengaged from the hug, turned to face the other girl, and flashed a mega-watt grin. Then turning back to the teen who had rescued Colin's tokens, he said, "See you later, sweetie."

Then he was gone. But as he walked away he could hear the mean girl pestering the adolescent about him; naturally token-girl was lording her acquaintance with such a handsome guy over her companion.

* * *

"Where's Tim?" Dick asked as he caught up to Damian and Colin, who were still at the basketball game.

Damian waved his hand nonchalantly. "Occupied elsewhere."

"He was supposed to supervise you two," Dick replied, slightly annoyed.

"We require no supervision, Grayson. Although apparently Drake does." Damian tossed the basketball and missed, much to Colin's joy. "Now if you'll excuse me, Grayson, you're messing up my game."

With a defeated sigh, Dick walked away in search of Tim. He had circled through most of the arcade when he heard a banging noise – like someone was pounding on the plastic of the play area crawl tubes. Turing around, Dick looked up to see Tim scrunched into one of the tubes, his face pressed against the colored plastic bubble that served as a window.

"Tim! I was looking for you," Dick said jovially as he approached his brother. "What are you doing in there? These things are technically only for the four-foot and under crowd."

"You think I want to be in here?" Tim hissed, his words slightly distorted by the plastic. "Damian trapped me in here!"

"Damian? How'd he do that?"

"Stole my wallet and took me on a wild goose chase though here."

"Why would Damian go in the crawl tubes? He's too tall for them – just like you!" Dick grinned at Tim.

Tim glared back. "I know, but he's still shorter than me. Anyway, I chased him and now I'm stuck."

Dick leaned back to assess the situation. Tim was rather strangely contorted in there. "How'd you end up like that?"

"Trying to free myself. Where were you anyway? I thought you'd be here to save me ages ago."

"I was just making some kid's day," Dick casually responded (like it wasn't even a thing). "Anyway, swing your right leg over, shift your hips, and you should be good to go." Dick started to walk away.

"Where are you going?" Tim squeaked in a panic.

"To get your wallet. I assume Dami still has it."

Tim glowered. "Yes."

"Back in a flash."

* * *

Dick sidled up to Damian and Colin who had both moved on to skeeball. "So Damian, you wouldn't happen to know where Tim's wallet is, would you?"

"No." Damian rolled a ball up the ramp.

"Oh really. Because I might have heard from a little bird that you have it."

"Is that so?"

"It is. True story."

"The bird-brain lied."

"The only liar I see is you, Little D."

Damian casually rolled another ball up the ramp and into the 100-point hole. With a vicious grin, he turned to Dick. "Then you need your eyes examined, Grayson."

Dick sighed. This little caper could go on all day. It was time to get serious.

"Damian, so help me god, if you don't give me back Tim's wallet this second, I will tie you up back home and tickle you for hours."

Damian looked up at Dick. Dick crossed his arms and met Damian's gaze with a Bat glare (albeit one modified for public consumption).

Damian grumbled some swear words under his breath but handed over the wallet.

"Pleasure doing business with you," Dick chirped as he darted back to the crawl tubes, leaving Colin to wonder if tickling was actually considered a punishment at Wayne Manor.

* * *

On his arrival at the crawl tubes Dick expected to see Tim waiting for him. What he actually saw was an even more miserable and knotted up Tim still stuck in the crawl tube.

"Tim, what happened?"

"I did what you said and I got stuck even more."

Dick frowned. "Did you shift your hips? I bet you didn't shift your hips."

"How am I supposed to shift my hips in here?" Tim shouted. "This place is built for a toddler. I can barely breathe!"

"Fear not, Timmy. The extraction crew is on its way."

"No, don't you get stuck in here, too," Tim moaned, but Dick was already out of earshot.

Less than a minute later, Tim saw Dick's head pop up over the edge of his crawl-tube prison. "How did you get here so fast? And so … unharmed?"

Dick shrugged (he could actually move his shoulders in the cramped environment!). "I'm an acrobat. It wasn't hard."

"I hate you," Tim seethed.

Dick just chuckled. "You say that now because you're angry, but I know you love me best of all."

Tim closed his eyes and took a deep breath. "Just get me out of here."

"No problem-o, Timbo. We just need to shift your hips…"

"Gaaaah!" Tim cried as Dick grabbed his hips and started moving them. "That hurts like hell, dude!"

"It does?" Dick looked confused.

"Yeah, normal people's hips don't move like that."

"Oh." Dick paused, trying to think of another plan. "Maybe if I move your left leg." Dick started to pull but stopped when Tim again cried out in pain.

"What are you doing to me?" Tim screeched.

"I'm trying to get you out, you big baby."

"Big baby. Normal people don't contort their bodies like that."

"Not true. I've seen Bruce do it."

"Uhhhhh…"

"It was for training! Sheesh."

Dick tried a few more maneuvers, but Tim vehemently protested every time. Finally, Dick reached the end of his rope.

"Alright Tim, it's time for a distraction technique. Think about… Steph's breasts."

"WHAT!"

"Think about Steph's breasts. Great distraction technique. Always works for Bruce."

"WHAT!" Tim managed to be even louder than the time before.

Dick laughed nervously. "Oops. The technique works for Bruce. But I always have him think of Selina's breasts. Bruce thinking about Steph would just be gross."

"Beyond disgusting," Tim agreed.

"Oh, and Tim, don't tell Damian that Bruce thinks of Selina's breasts as a distraction. I think it's important that he thinks Bruce only looks at Talia that way."

Tim shuddered. "Dick, I have no intention of EVER mentioning this to Damian."

"Fair enough. Now lie back and think of England. Or Steph."

Tim did his best to distract himself with a variety of thoughts. Things were going well until –

"Ahhhh," Tim shrieked as Dick forcibly untwisted him. "I think you broke my spine," he whimpered.

"Oh, you wimp," Dick scoffed. "You're fine. And, look, you're also untwisted. Now let's get out of here."

"I think I need a minute." Tim laid there, stretched out as much as possible, and breathed. "Okay, let's go."

"Alright. Follow me and don't get twisted up again."

* * *

Minutes later, Dick was surreptitiously finishing the Zesti Cola while Tim lay on the floor, underneath their table, stretching.

"You know, that floor's kind of dirty," Dick commented between sips of sweet, delicious cola.

"I don't care," Tim replied. "I just need to spread out."

"By the way, here's your wallet." Dick passed it under the table.

"How'd you get it back?"

"Threatened to tickle him."

"Genius. I should try that sometime."

"Might not work. He knows you're a little less touchy-feely than I am."

"Dick, Barney the Dinosaur is less touchy-feely than you."

"I have better style, though."

"Hmm. Debatable. Ow!" Tim exclaimed as Dick kicked him.

"Sorry, forgot you were there."

"Yeah right." But Tim didn't care too much. It just felt so good to stretch.

"So, Dick, how much longer are we going to be here?"

"I don't kn-." Dick was interrupted by his cell phone. "Let me get this."

"Sure."

"Hello? Jason, what's up, bro?"

"I hear you, the replacement, and the demon are all at Chuck E Cheese."

Dick sighed. "Yes, Jason. Tim, Damian, Dami's friend, and I are all at Chuck E Cheese. You wanna come?"

"Already in the parking lot, bro."

* * *

**Thanks for reading! I have a question I'm hoping someone can help me with. I read a story on here that I forgot to save and now I can't remember the title. I've searched, but I can't find it. Does anyone remember/know the title of a story which is about Tim and Bruce rescuing Dick. Tim is feeling very unloved (it's early days) and thinking Bruce only cares about Nightwing. After Nightwing is rescued Dick and Tim spend some time together in a freezing cold cabin while Bruce tries to get them home. I think Dick is temporarily blind, and I remember he and Tim snuggle under a blanket for warmth at one point. Anyway, the two bond and Dick convinces Bruce to be more loving towards Tim and they all end up one, big happy family. It's really good and I'm positive I didn't imagine it! Anyone have any hints? Thanks!**

*** Update: Many thanks, people, for all the suggestions on how to find this story. I knew I could count on you all to help me out! Extra thanks to Firegod76 and Chibi Rose Angel for pointing me in the right direction (thanks for mentioning it was filed under "Justice League," Chibi; I never thought to look there)! Anyway, the story is called "Shifting Tides," it was written by anakinlove, and it's filed under "Comics - Justice League." Go read it - it's really good.  
**


	3. Chuck E Cheese 3

Jason came stalking into Chuck E Cheese like he owned the place. Which, given who their father was, was entirely possible, although investing in children's amusements didn't really seem like Bruce's thing.

Dick was waiting by the turnstile, standing next to the employee responsible for stamping everyone's hands. "He's with me," Dick said, gesturing at Jason.

Jason rolled his eyes. "Dick, I'm over 18. I don't need to be stamped with the same number as you. No pedophile is going to snatch me."

"I'm just trying to keep you safe," Dick pouted.

"Mister, could I um, could I see some id?" The employee asked Jason, a tad nervously.

Jason shot Dick a death-glare, growled, but managed to produce some sort of satisfactory identification revealing he was a legal adult. The employee gave Jason his own stamp and let him in.

Dick immediately gave Jason a hug, practically squealing, "I'm so glad you could make it!"

"Get off me!" Jason grunted, smacking Dick away. "And give me some tokens. Alfred indicated you were in charge of this event."

Dick reached into his pocket and pulled out a handful of tokens. "Please play responsibly," he added as he handed them over.

"Kiss my ass."

"You'd think he'd be a little more pleasant," Tim commented dryly, as he came up beside Dick. "Isn't this the place where 'a kid can be a kid'?"

Dick laughed, rather pleased Tim had managed to remember the old Chuck E Cheese slogan. "Eh, I'm sure he'll be all right after he's killed a few hundred zombies."

"Speaking of zombies," Tim turned Dick in another direction and gestured towards a machine, "you do owe me a game of Zombie Apocalypse 5."

* * *

Half-an-hour later, Tim was thoroughly trouncing Dick for the third time when Jason appeared behind them. "Get the brats. I've got a plan."

Dick and Tim just looked at him, bewildered. "NOW!" Jason shouted.

"Sheesh, okay," Dick muttered, scurrying off to retrieve Damian and Colin.

"Come on," Jason gestured to Tim. "We're playing this game." He walked right up to a circle of six arcade booths equipped with steering wheels. The booths were roughly shaped like cars and the front ends all pointed towards the center of the circle. It was clearly meant to be a multi-player car-chase game.

"Scram!" Jason barked at a couple of children who were milling about.

"Jason, that wasn't very nice," Tim hissed, apprehensively looking around for any angry parents about to charge at them.

"Well the world isn't nice, so they better get used to it."

"What do we have here?" Dick asked eagerly, as he shepherded Damian and Colin towards the game.

"A multi-player chase game. Everyone gets his own pod, but they're all linked. We'll be playing against each other rather than the computer."

"Cool," Colin breathed.

"Very cool," Jason agreed. "Now everyone get in."

Each person took his own booth, inserted tokens, and started the game.

"Oooh, we get to pick the color of our car!" Dick said excitedly.

Jason rolled his eyes at Dick's childlike enthusiasm. "Yeah, and you're going to be purple. Because it's the most effeminate color in this game."

Dick frowned at Jason's brash overcompensation. "Don't be a hater." Dick darted back into his booth, only to reappear a moment later and add, "And I prefer androgynous."

"Loser," Jason muttered, irritated he hadn't been able to get a rise out of Dick.

"Can I be red?" Tim asked. He leaned over towards Jason and whispered, "Since it's in my name and everything."

Jason scoffed. "Yeah, it's in my name, too, dumbass. I'm red. You can be green."

"Fine," Tim sighed, a little put-out.

"I want blue!" Colin called cheerfully, oblivious to the intense rivalry that was building around him.

"Sure thing, kid," Jason replied in a tone that was almost cheerful.

"And I'll be black," Damian stated.

"Got it," Jason said. "Looks like no one's orange."

"So what exactly do we do in this game?" Dick asked.

"Seriously, Dick?" Jason scoffed. "It's a car chase. Drive your damn car. And keep other people from winning."

"Oh, right. I knew that."

A hush fell over the boys as the game began the countdown. Three…two…one. Start!

Five colorful cars took off from the starting line. The black car immediately started to pull ahead, allowing Damian to bask in his pod in smug satisfaction.

"This sure is tricky," Dick mused to no one in particular. Suddenly, the red car pulled up alongside him and began to run him off the road. "What's going on?"

"I'm keeping you from winning, Goldie," Jason cackled, jerking the wheel so that his car rammed Dick's.

Tim chuckled. "You really thought Dick was going to be a threat in a video game?" That was beyond believable.

Jason laughed darkly. "Not really. I just wanna see Goldie fail." Suddenly, Jason got an idea. A wonderful, awful idea. "Wanna help?"

Tim was about to laugh off Jason's suggestion when he thought better of it. It would be kind of fun to run another player off the road. And it would keep Jason from going after him. "Sure."

Immediately the green car dropped back and began to tailgate the purple one.

"Timmy!" Dick cried, shocked. "I thought you loved me!"

"I do, Big Bro, I do. But sometimes a guy's gotta do what a guy's gotta do."

"I am deeply wounded," Dick pronounced. Despite his hurt feelings, he somehow managed to maneuver his car out from between Jason and Tim's and blasted ahead of them. The least he could do was make it a challenge for them to run him off the road.

"Damn it. He got away." Jason hit the gas and was pushing Dick off the road again in a matter of seconds. Tim came up from behind and started rear-ending Dick.

Damian, meanwhile, was blasting on ahead. Colin, however, had noticed the trouble Dick was in and was dropping back to help him. After all, Dick had gotten his tokens back for him; he owed him a little help, surely.

The blue car dropped back and then slammed on its brakes, causing the red car to crash into it.

"Shit!" Jason exclaimed, only to be simultaneously shushed by both Dick and Tim (because this was a "family restaurant.")

"I'm gonna get you, you little f-!"

"JASON!"

"Colin, save yourself," Dick called.

"But Dick, you got back my tokens for me. I owe you."

"Don't worry about it, Colin. Save yourself. I mean it."

"Are you su-? Ahhh!" Jason had just rear-ended him.

"Positive. Go!"

Colin's blue car took off down the highway, leaving only a very angry Jason and Tim to continue to gang-up on Dick.

"This ends now, Goldie."

"Not yet." And, to everyone's surprise, Dick managed to ramp his car off a parked vehicle and escape Jason's clutches.

"That does it!" Jason hit the gas, leaving Tim, his erstwhile comrade, in the dust.

"Ahhhh," Dick moaned as Jason hit his car with enough force to throw it over the guard rail and send it tumbling down the cliff face.

"GAME OVER" appeared, scrolled in large red letters across Dick's screen.

"Man, I'm out," Dick sighed. He emerged from his pod. "I'll be at Dance Dance Revolution if anyone needs me."

Jason, of course, immediately turned on Tim, running him off the road in no time. After that, Colin was easy pickings. That left him and Damian.

"You're going down, Demon Spawn."

"Highly unlikely, Todd. Your skills are well below mine."

"We'll see about that." Jason ramped his car, went soaring over some trees, and landed neatly on the road in front of Damian. "How do you like them apples?"

"I am not particularly fond of apples, Todd. Nor am I fond of you." And with that, Damian ran into Jason's already-battered vehicle.

"Oh yeah." Jason rammed Damian. "Eat shit, kid."

Damian returned the blow. "I'd rather eat shit than be shit."

As Jason and Damian's battle became increasingly peppered with expletives, Dick turned to Tim.

"Tim, you know how to shut this thing off?"

"I imagine unplugging it would work nicely. Why?"

"Do it."

"Unplug the game?"

"Yeah. Hurry."

"Why?"

"You really want either Damian or Jason to win? It will be never ending bragging from the winner and ceaseless complaining from the loser."

Tim considered. Yeah, that sounded about right. And it sounded awful. "Okay. It'll only take a sec."

"Make it snappy."

Damian and Jason were too absorbed in the game to see Tim sneak into the center of the pods and trip the switch on the power strip. Without warning, all the screens went blank. A second later they were back, but the game had started over. "Insert token" flashed across the screens.

"WHAT THE -!" Jason shouted. Immediately, Dick was at his side, pushing him back into the pod, allowing Tim time to escape from the center.

"Jason, be quiet. There are children here."

"What the hell! The game just shut off. And I was about to defeat Demon Spawn, too!"

"Like hell you were, Todd," Damian pushed Dick aside and snarled at Jason. "I was about to defeat your sorry ass."

"In your dreams, asshat. You can't hold a candle to my skill."

"Todd, you're pathetic. I was going to win."

"Were not."

"Yes, I was. Stop being a whiny baby. I see now why Father relieved you of your duties."

"Relieved me! You little son of a bitch!"

"Do not insult my mother. I never would have played this game with you, Todd, if I had known you would be such a dick about losing."

"Hey, hey," Dick interrupted. "I think this has gone far enough. Damian, Colin would like to play skeeball with you again." Dick quickly flashed Colin a "please" look, while signaling for Tim to give Colin some tokens from their stash.

"Fine," Damian groused, but he abandoned Jason and went off to play with his friend.

"I was going to win," Jason declared to Dick and Tim. "I was. I swear."

"Of course you were, Jason," Tim soothed.

"Yeah," Dick nodded enthusiastically in agreement. "But sometimes you just have to be the bigger person and not let the kid get to you."

Dick grinned dopily at his brothers. "Come on, let's play something else." He turned and sauntered off.

Tim and Jason looked at each other. "I will get that little creep," Jason vowed.

Tim nodded enthusiastically. "And I'll be glad to help!"

* * *

Chuck E Cheese was about to close, so the boys were gathered at the prize counter, exchanging their tickets. Dick had hardly won any, so he gave his meager earnings to Tim, so that his brother could get a teddy bear.

"It's for Steph, I swear," Tim said.

"You sure it isn't for Kon?" Jason teased and Tim blushed.

Since Jason had arrived late he only had enough tickets for a giant bank full of Tootsie Rolls, which he would no doubt refuse to share.

Colin exchanged his massive pile of tickets in for some electronic game. His few remaining tickets he turned in for a neon green slap bracelet, which he presented to Dick.

"Since you didn't get anything," he said.

"Thanks, Colin!" Dick gave him a big hug, then proceeded to slap the bracelet around his wrist.

He grinned. "Just as awesome as I remember," he commented wistfully, thinking back to his early childhood when such things were actually somewhat cool.

"I can't believe you're going to wear that … thing," Jason commented, shaking his head.

Dick ignored him (and Tim's sniggering). "Little D, let's go! Pick your prize already."

"Grayson, I want this." Damian appeared with some sort of glowing tube.

"What's it do?" Tim asked.

"This." Damian pushed a button (or something) and the baton began to play loud, annoying music, accompanied by a light show. "It also does this." Damian essentially turned the object into a lightsaber.

Damian wanted a music-playing, disco-light-showing plastic sword.

"Wow," was all Jason could think to say.

"That has got to be the most annoying toy ever created," Tim commented.

Dick continued to stare at the toy for a few seconds. That light show was mesmerizing.

"Well?" Damian prodded. Dick snapped out of it.

"Damian, Bruce told me not to let you bring home any obnoxious toys," Dick admitted.

"And that thing is beyond obnoxious," Tim added.

Damian frowned. Well that just wouldn't do. He wanted this toy!

Gathering up his inner fortitude, Damian decided to take a momentary pass on dignity. Mustering up his best puppy-dog eyes and pout, he turned to his older brothers. "Please?"

Tim gasped. "Oh my god; it's perfect."

Jason looked stunned. "Why did you teach him that shit?"

Dick gave a theatrical sniff to distract from the real tears in his eyes. "Oh Damian," he cooed, enveloping his younger brother in a hug before Damian even knew what hit him, "you make me so proud." Dick gave a dramatic sob. "You really were listening to me."

"So can I have it?" Damian asked, trying to wriggle free.

Dick gave his brother one last squeeze, then released him and stood up. "Well, Bruce would be pretty mad, but since you made such wonderful puppy-dog eyes, we'll compromise. Say Jason got it."

With an evil, yet delighted, grin, Damian dashed off to cash in his tickets.

"A compromise?" Jason asked, stunned.

"Well, maybe it's more like a little white lie." Dick gave Jason a brotherly punch on the shoulder. "Thanks for taking the fall."

"A compromise?" Jason repeated, still shocked.

"What I think Jason really means, Dick, is: how could you even summon enough willpower to suggest a compromise when Damian was giving you that look?" Tim looked rather shell-shocked himself.

"Oh that." Dick grinned and put his arms around the shoulders of both his brothers, pulling them in close. "It's like being a good drug dealer: you never get addicted to your own product."

END

* * *

**So I need to have the crew do something else. Any suggestions? I'm kind of thinking the zoo, but maybe that's lame.**


	4. Waterpark

Bruce tapped on Dick's door before poking his head in and entering the room. "Dick?"

Dick barely had time to stash the trashy romance novel he had borrowed from Kory under his pillow. "Hey, Bruce? What's up?"

"You have any plans this weekend?"

"Aside from the usual one of beating up baddies, no." Dick cast a suspicious, sidelong glance at Bruce. "Why?"

"I'm meeting with some business partners over the weekend at Great Bear Lodge, that hotel with -."

"With a waterpark inside!" Dick squealed. He jumped off his bed. "Yes, I want to go." He walked up to Bruce and gave him a bear hug. "I've wanted to go ever since it opened."

Although Dick was still hugging him tightly, Bruce managed to wiggle one hand free. "I thought you'd want to come," he murmured, ruffling Dick's hair.

Dick finally released Bruce and did a happy jig. "Of course! Oooh, I can't wait! When are we leaving?"

"Friday night," Bruce replied as he scooted out the door. He still needed to speak to Damian.

* * *

"I refuse to go," Damian said haughtily as he crossed his arms over his chest. "I will not partake in such puerile amusements."

Bruce ran his hand over his face and sighed. "Damian, you don't really have a choice. You're a kid. You go where I go. And we're going to Great Bear Lodge."

Before Damian could offer an acerbic retort, Dick ran into the room, whizzed past Bruce, and scooped Damian up into a hug while simultaneously landing both of them on Damian's bed.

"Dami, Dami, Dami, Bruce is taking us to a waterpark!"

"Unhand me, Grayson." Once Damian had wormed free of Dick and was sitting sedately on his bed, he replied, "I know that, Grayson."

"Aren't you excited?" Dick was clearly off-the-walls with joy.

"I -. A little," Damian amended.

"A little. That's it! Damian, you have no idea how awesome this is going to be." Dick flopped back on Damian's bed. "I haven't been to one of these since I was thirteen."

"You've been before?"

"Not to this one, but to ones like it. Bruce used to take me to indoor waterparks for my birthday each year, but when I turned fourteen I decided I was too big." Dick shook his head at his youthful self. "What was I thinking?"

Damian turned to Bruce. "Father, you used to take him to waterparks?"

Bruce looked a bit awkward. "Yes."

"Oh, man, Damian, you should see this guy on the big water slides. He's an animal!"

Damian arched an eyebrow. "Oh really, Father?"

"I used to be," Bruce said quickly. "I'm a bit old now."

"WHAT!" Dick gasped. "You're never too old for waterparks!"

"You didn't think that when you were fourteen," Bruce reminded him.

"I didn't know anything when I was fourteen."

"I don't think you know anything now, Grayson."

Dick reached over and vigorously mussed Damian's hair. "You're so funny, Little D."

"We're leaving Friday night," Bruce informed Damian. "Make sure you're packed."

"We're gonna have so much fun," Dick chanted as he tickled Damian. "I should take a camera to capture the memories."

Damian slapped Dick's hands away. "It's a waterpark, you idiot. Your camera will get ruined."

Dick frowned and paused for a moment to think.

"Bruce?"

"Yes, Dick?"

"I need $500 – ." Dick paused to glance at Damian, his trusted expert in consumer electronics.

"Better make it $700," Damian said.

"I need $700 for an underwater camera." Dick flashed Bruce a big smile. "Please, Bruce?"

"Are you sure you need an underwater camera?" Bruce asked, even as he was taking his wallet out of his pocket.

"Hey, I want to be sure that even if accidents befall the camera, none of our precious pictures will be ruined." Dick grinned wickedly. "You might want to use one on your Christmas card."

"But it will only have the two of you in it." Bruce stated the obvious as he handed Dick seven Benjamin Franklins.

"Thanks," Dick pocketed the money. "But it will have your two most handsome sons in it." He nudged Damian. "Am I right?"

"Tt" was Damian's only reply. But from his tone and body language, Dick could tell Little D was pleased.

* * *

Saturday Morning

After putting the finishing touches on his outfit (Bruce felt naked without his suit, but he didn't want to intimidate his partners. Alfred had insisted that "casual weekend meeting at an indoor waterpark" meant no suits), Bruce decided to venture through the adjoining door into Dick and Damian's room.

"Dick, what are you wearing?" Bruce gasped.

Dick turned around to see Bruce standing in the doorway. "Hey Bruce, like my new swim trunks?" Dick gestured at his blue swim trunks, which were dotted with Superman logos.

"What was wrong with your old trunks, Dick?" Bruce asked. "You know, the _Batman_ trunks I bought you."

Dick laughed. "Bruce those trunks were so old. I think I got them when I was a freshman in high school! I'm a little bigger now."

"Not to mention those trunks were in terrible shape," Alfred added. "I shudder to think they were not thrown out years ago."

"But Superman?" Bruce insisted.

Dick shrugged. "Alfred bought them for me."

"Alfred!" Bruce gasped, cut to the quick.

"They were on sale, sir."

Bruce was about to respond "I don't care if they cost $100 more, my boys should wear Batman swim trunks," when Damian stalked out of the bathroom.

"Why am I wearing these?" he shouted to no one in particular.

"Dami, you can't go swimming in regular clothes," Dick quipped.

Damian narrowed his eyes. "Why am I wearing these particular swim trunks?" He indicated the orange-and-green trunks, which were covered with bubble As.

"What's wrong with Aquaman?" Dick asked.

"What wrong with Aquaman?" Damian spat. "Only that he's a pathetic, third-rate member of the Justice League."

"Hey! Arthur's not so bad. Right, Bruce?" Unfortunately, Bruce's expression clearly indicated that he agreed with Damian.

"Well, aren't they kind of witty?" Dick offered. "Swim trunks with Aquaman. Pretty appropriate, don't you think?"

"You have no idea what wit is, Grayson."

"I'm sorry if the trunks are not to your liking, Master Damian, but, given that I did not know your liking, I merely went with what was on sale."

"Yeah, I said he should buy you the pinks ones," Dick laughed.

"Grayson," Damian growled, the horror of Aquaman swim trunks rapidly receding before the imagined horror of pink swim trunks.

Dick just continued laughing and threw Damian his sandals. "Come on, let's go!"

"Shouldn't you boys put some sunscreen on?" Bruce suggested, a tad worried.

Dick rolled his eyes. "Bruce, it's an indoor waterpark. Plus, neither Damian nor I are as pasty white as you!"

And with that, Dick grabbed Damian's hand and dragged his younger brother out the door.

* * *

**I'll try to get to the great suggestions people left soon!**


	5. Waterpark 2

**Usual disclaimers and such.**

**Thanks to Glimare for the waterpark idea. I forget to mention her last time. My apologies!  
**

**And apologies to CHiKa-RoXy for this not being sexy. Despite your lovely hints, I am not particularly skilled at sexy.  
**

* * *

Much as he hated to admit it, Damian was really enjoying himself. He and Dick had spent hours riding water slides, playing water basketball, soaking in the hot tube, you name it. About the only thing that annoyed Damian was that he couldn't keep Grayson all to himself. They were also hanging out with the tween-aged children of Bruce's investors and all of them seemed to adore Dick. When they rode the big water slides, the ones that required an inner tube, everyone wanted to ride with Dick. Damian had ridden a few times by himself, but it wasn't as fun alone. So he had patiently waited his turn while Dick ran continually up and down the staircase, riding the slide about five more times than anybody else.

Eventually, though, Damian had enough sharing. When the other children decided to relax by grabbing inner tubes and floating languidly in the "lazy river," Damian made his move.

"Come on, Grayson, let's go play on the water fort." Damian immediately started to walk off.

"Lead on, McDuff," Dick quipped, obediently following.

As Damian effortlessly climbed up the monkey bars, a twenty-something woman stepped out and gently placed her hand on Dick's shoulder.

"I just wanted to tell you, I've seen you playing with your son all day, and you seem like such a great father. Your son's really lucky."

Dick was momentarily speechless. "I … uh… thanks." Sensing that Damian was about to protest, he added, "but he's actually my little brother."

The woman blushed slightly with embarrassment. "Oh, I'm sorry. I just assumed he was your son because -."

"Oh my gosh," Dick interrupted in a panic. "Do I look old enough to be his dad? Did you see a grey hair or something?"

"No, no, no," the young woman replied quickly, trying not to laugh. "It's just… you were so good with him, so loving."

"So I don't look old?"

"Not at all." The young woman got a rather flirty look in her eyes, which did not go unnoticed by Damian, who was still observing the interaction from his perch on top of the monkey bars.

"Well, thanks," Dick said, rubbing the back of his neck. "My bro's a great kid."

"I think you're the great brother."

Damian had had enough of this. He was done. With. Sharing. "Dick!" he shouted. "Let's go. Move it, Dick."

Dick laughed and looked up at Damian. "Coming, Little D." He reached for a monkey bar.

"Did he just call you a dick?" the young woman asked, rather shocked.

"Uh, no." Dick smiled. "He called me my name." And with that, he was following Damian into the bowels of the water fort.

* * *

"So, Bruce, you coming to the waterpark tonight?" Dick asked at dinner.

Bruce set down his water glass. "No. We're having another meeting."

Dick looked aghast. "Man," he said, shaking his head, "you guys never have any fun."

"I believe Master Bruce is allergic to merriment," Alfred added drily.

"Business doesn't conduct itself," Bruce lamely defended himself.

Dick just shook his head. Pathetic.

Damian decided to be proactive. "Let's go to the arcade tonight, Grayson. I saw an air hockey table, and I intend to inflict an utterly humiliating defeat on you."

"Waterpark first. It's only open until 9, but the arcade's open until 11."

"Fine, but I expect two games of air hockey then."

"Deal. But I want you to go down the big slides with me in the two-person inner tube."

Damian sighed. "You drive a hard bargain, Grayson."

* * *

Bruce returned to his hotel room at 9:25 and was surprised to find Damian in his room, sitting on his bed and watching MSNBC.

"I thought you would be in the arcade with Dick."

Damian looked up from the television. "Grayson could barely keep his eyes open long enough to brush his teeth."

"He's asleep!"

"Of course, Father. Why else would I be watching television in your room?"

Bruce found it rather sweet that Damian didn't want to disturb Dick's rest. Of course, he also knew better than to tell his son that. "Is Dick ill?"

"Just tired." Damian was already turning his attention back to the night's stock quotes.

"Why's he so tired?" Bruce asked as he deposited his briefcase on the table.

"I imagine entertaining an entire waterpark-ful of children is rather exhausting."

"Hmm." Now that he thought about it, Bruce did remember his investors telling him, after dinner, how much fun their kids were having with his son. He hadn't thought much of it at the time, but he might have known they meant Dick.

Bruce went to the bathroom, and when he emerged, Damian was still watching (or disappointedly glaring at) the television. "So, you want to go to the arcade?"

"Excuse me?" Damian didn't even try to conceal his surprise.

"You talked big about your air hockey skills at dinner. Let's say we see how good you really are."

Damian's eyes gleamed. "I shall relish this opportunity to destroy you, Father."

* * *

Much to Damian's annoyance, other people had co-opted the air hockey table. Because the arcade was particularly crowded, he and Bruce had been reduced to playing an hour-and-a-half of skeeball. However, they had proven particularly adept at the game and had amassed a huge pile of tickets.

"Better turn those tickets in, son," Bruce said in a tone that (as best as Damian could tell) bordered on affectionate. "Here, take mine, too." Bruce handed another massive pile of tickets over to Damian.

"Thank you, Father." As Damian scooped the tickets into his arms, he paused. "I had fun with you tonight, Father."

"Yeah, me, too," Bruce mused. "You're a good kid, Damian." And he reached over and ruffled Damian's hair.

"Tt." And he thought only Grayson ruffled people's hair. Damian hoped the fault wasn't hereditary.

A few minutes later, Damian was standing before the prize counter, surveying the wares. Bruce was nearby, growing increasingly restless. Damian found that somewhat irritating; he always thought Grayson was the one in perpetual motion. But he felt certain Grayson would have been right up at the counter with him, helping him select a good prize.

Turning to Bruce, Damian pronounced, "You may leave, Father."

Bruce looked surprised. "Huh? What?"

"You may leave."

"Don't you want help picking out your prize."

"I can do it myself. In fact, I would prefer to."

Bruce looked hurt, but all he said was "okay." And then he left.

Damian immediately cashed in his tickets. He really just hadn't wanted Bruce to see his prize; it was embarrassing.

* * *

The next morning, Bruce was awakened by a joyous cry of "Oh, Damian, you shouldn't have!"

Stumbling into the next room, Bruce saw Dick release Damian from a tight hug. "Thanks so much, Little D."

"Well since you missed out on the arcade yesterday…."

"Bruce, look what Dami got me!" Dick dashed over to Bruce, holding out a stuffed bear wearing a t-shirt that said "Great Bear Lodge." "Isn't it awesome?"

Bruce took the bear, glanced it over, and gave it back to Dick. So this was the prize Damian hadn't wanted him to see. "It's great. And -." He paused, knowing he needed to choose his words carefully. "And very thoughtful of you, Damian."

Dick swooped over to Damian and crushed the boy into another hug. "Damian is just the sweetest kid," he gushed.

"Unhand me, Grayson," Damian hissed.

Dick released Damian and grinned. "You know, Dami, this bear will go great with what I got you."

Damian's face darkened. "What did you get me?"

Dick reached under the bed. "This!" He proudly produced a stuffed kitten, which was also wearing a "Great Bear Lodge" t-shirt. "Ta-da."

Damian's hands immediately closed over the toy. Although he obviously liked the present, he couldn't allow Dick to win that easily. "Thank you. But what am I supposed to do with it, Grayson?"

Dick shrugged. "Treasure it forever," he half-asked, half-suggested.

Damian rolled his eyes.

"So, Bruce, you coming to the waterpark today?" He glanced at the clock. "You have a little time before your meeting."

"Maybe." Bruce frowned. "Although I think I forgot to pack a swim suit."

Dick sighed and shook his head. Even Damian gave him a look. "Alfred packed one for you."

"Quite right, Master Bruce," Alfred called from the other room. "It's on your bed, should you require it."

"Come on, Bruce," Dick encouraged. "Put it on and go with us for a little bit."

"Yes, Father. You should come."

"Well -."

Dick gave him puppy-dog eyes.

"Maybe for half-an-hour."

"Excellent! I'll go change." Dick immediately dashed into the bathroom, his Superman trunks in tow.

Casting a baleful glance at the bathroom and the Superman trunks therein, Bruce went into his room.

Lying on the bed were pink swim trunks.

PINK

"Alfred?"

Completely calm, Alfred met Bruce's gaze. "Yes, Master Bruce?"

"Are these my swim trunks?"

"Indeed, sir."

"But they're pink."

"Well, sir, I knew you wouldn't want Superman or Aquaman."

"But -."

"Choices were limited."

From the other room, Bruce could hear Damian chuckling and Dick howling with laughter.

End

* * *

**That's it for the waterpark. There will be more, per people's suggestions.**


	6. Disney World 1

Disney World

Bruce stared out the huge window in front of him in the Disney's Grand Floridian Resort & Spa, gazing across the Seven Seas Lagoon. Chaos reigned behind him as Alfred and the boys attempted to figure out sleeping arrangements. Their reservations had been rather last minute, so they only had one large six-person suite. People were going to have to share beds.

"Master Bruce will have the king-size bed in room one," Alfred crisply stated. "I shall sleep on the sleeper sofa."

"Alfred, you shouldn't have to sleep on the pull-out bed!" Tim protested.

"Yeah, share with Bruce," Dick suggested. "That bed in there is huge!"

Alfred smiled wanly. "The sleeper sofa will be just fine. That leaves you four with the two queens in room two."

"I'm not sleeping with the demon!" Jason and Tim shouted simultaneously.

"I'll sleep with anyone," Dick said casually.

Jason snickered. "Yeah, Goldie, we know."

"Ha, ha," Dick replied in a bored tone. "Looks like it's you and me, Dami. Let's go pick our bed first."

There was a slight squawk, followed by "Grayson, put me down. Put. Me. Down." Dick, cackling, took off down the hall, Tim and Jason at his heels.

Bruce sighed, thinking of all the merriment he was going to have to endure in the coming days. He had avoided Disney World for years, but he should have known better than to think he could resist the combined forces of Alfred and Dick.

"_Master Bruce, any plans now that you have returned from the dead?" Alfred casually asked one day at breakfast._

"_Stalk the night," Bruce replied, not even bothering to look up from his paper._

"_Bruce, really," Dick sighed. "When something extraordinary happens, I believe the correct answer is 'I'm going to Disney World.'"_

_Bruce's only reply was a snort. But he sure wasn't snorting three days later when Alfred and Dick announced they were leaving on Monday for Disney World._

* * *

Everything was off to a great start. Despite Bruce's grumbling (and Damian's complaints that Dick had cuddled him too much in his sleep), Alfred and Dick had everyone on the Monorail and ready to take them to the Magic Kingdom in time for the opening show.

"Why do we have to be here before the damn park even opens?" Jason groused, as the family milled about with a plethora of other families.

"Don't you want to see Mickey come in on the train and open the park!" Dick gasped. "They even shoot off fireworks."

"Sounds lame," Jason yawned.

"You're lame, Todd," Damian snapped. "I very much wish to see this giant mouse."

"You won't be disappointed, Little D," Dick said, ruffling his hair.

"Here he comes!" Tim shouted, pointing.

After Mickey had opened the park and the Waynes were inside, Damian turned to Dick.

"Grayson, why weren't we up on that train opening the park with the mouse? We are surely more important than that nobody family from Alabama."

Dick and Alfred shared a look. Alfred nodded slightly. Dick grinned wildly. "Well, Damian, we actually are going to open the park with Mickey tomorrow! It was going to be a surprise, but-."

"We're WHAT!" Bruce, Jason, and Tim gasped, drowning out Damian's ever-so-quiet squeal of delight.

"Opening the park with Mickey. Come on, guys, we only have to be at the train depot half-an-hour early," Dick patiently explained. "And, Bruce, I've always wanted to since that time you brought me here. And plus, Damian likes to be in charge." He playfully nudged Damian. "Right, Little D?"

"Correct. I will open this park with all the dignity befitting the House of Wayne."

Dick swallowed his laughter. "That's the spirit!" He put his arm affectionately around Damian's shoulders. "Come on. Let's go in this shop here and get us all mouse ears. It's part of the experience." He glanced around. "Coming, Alfie?"

"Of course, Master Dick. I live for mouse ears."

As the three entered the gift shop, Tim and Jason turned accusingly to Bruce. "You took Dick to Disney World?"

"He was eight." Bruce paused. "Maybe nine. Anyway, he was little and needed cheering up."

"Likely story," Jason shot back. He turned to Tim and the two started muttering good-naturedly about how Bruce favored the two Ds.

Bruce dropped his head into his hands and sighed. When would this trip be over?

* * *

A short while later, Alfred, Dick, and Damian appeared with mouse ears. For everyone.

"No way am I wearing that shit!" Jason declared.

Damian marched right up to Jason and got in his face. "Yes you are, Todd! Dick got this just for you." He turned the ears around. "It even has your name on it, so we don't get them mixed up."

Jason grumbled, but dutifully put on the ears marked "Jason."

"Dick, why do your ears say 'Richard'?" Tim asked, adjusting his own ears.

"Uhh, well, it turns out 'Dick' is a bit of a grey-area when it comes to the Disney Anti-Profanity Policy, so the clerk refused to put it on my ears."

Tim and Jason started laughing. Even Bruce cracked a small smile.

"I told you that you should have traded that nickname in," Jason teased.

Dick just frowned and unfurled his map with a flourish. "So where should we go first?"

"Home."

"A bar."

"Somewhere with computers."

"Right. I'm thinking Fantasyland. It's the most quintessentially Disney part of this park. Plus, it has Small World."

Major groaning ensued.

Damian frowned at his uncooperative family members. "Let's go, Grayson," he half-said, half-ordered, while simultaneously grabbing his brother's hand.

Dick turned to Alfred, pure joy on his face.

Alfred smiled. "Lead on, Master Dick."

Dick raised his other arm and pointed. "To Cinderella's castle!"

* * *

**Thanks to those who suggested Disney. There will be more soon. I love Disney!**


	7. Disney World 2

"I swear to god, Dick, if you make me go on "Small World" one more time, I will cut you," Jason pronounced, emerging from their fourth time (in a row!) through the ride.

"But the line is still so short," Dick pouted slightly, gesturing towards the line (which was, indeed, quite short).

"Just the same, maybe a change of pace is in order, Master Dick," Alfred suggested pleasantly.

"Wellllll," Dick cast his eyes about. "Oh, hey! The line for Peter Pan's Flight is pretty short. Let's go." He grabbed the hand of whoever was nearest to him, which happened to be Tim at that moment, and pulled him towards the line.

"Grayson, wait for me!" Damian insisted, running after Dick and Tim.

Jason and Bruce shared a groan, but Alfred herded them towards the ride. The butler would tolerate no opposition.

"Who's riding with whom?" Damian asked once they were all together in line. It had been his question every time and was his way of ensuring he wasn't forced to ride with anyone he deemed unacceptable.

Dick draped his arm over Tim's shoulders. "I'm going to ride with Timmy on this one."

Damian stomped his foot. "That's not fair! You rode with him on the Dumbo ride."

"I rode the Dumbo ride with you, too, Little D."

"Dick rode that damn Dumbo ride with everyone," Jason moaned. It was true; since Dumbo was a circus elephant, Dick had insisted on sharing the ride with everyone. Therefore, he had ridden it five times in a row. Bruce had seemed particularly uncomfortable being squished into the small compartment with Dick, but Alfred fully supported Dick's madcap plan. Bruce had been powerless to resist.

Dick frowned. "Jason, don't swear. It's Disney."

"Oh, right. Sorry, Richard," Jason smirked.

Dick gave Jason the hairy eyeball but otherwise did nothing.

"Grayson, I insist that you ride with me."

Dick rubbed the top of Damian's mouse ears. "Aww, Little D, I'll ride with you on Snow White's Scary Adventures, okay?"

"Only if you agree to ride with me on the Haunted Mansion as well."

"Oooh, I love that ride," Dick said, momentarily distracted.

"Focus, Grayson."

"Oh sure, Dami. Snow White and Haunted Mansion. Deal."

Damian nodded solemnly. "That is acceptable." He turned to Bruce. "Father, will you accompany me on Peter Pan's Flight?"

Bruce was momentarily taken off guard. "Oh, uh, sure."

Alfred "ahem"-ed quietly.

"That would be great, Damian," Bruce added, much to Alfred's satisfaction.

Alfred turned to smile at Jason. "I shall enjoy sharing this ride across a model of London with you, Master Jason."

Jason just closed his eyes and sighed.

* * *

**Dinnertime.**

Jason frowned at all the pink and glitter surrounding him. "Remind me why we're eating at the princess's palace again?"

"It's called Cinderella's Royal Table and it's the best restaurant here," Dick clarified. "Can you imagine Bruce eating another meal at a place like Pinocchio's?" Pinocchio's was a bit more of a fast-food place. The food was more than acceptable, but it was not quite up to Bruce's standards.

Bruce shuddered at the thought. "How can you boys eat – and _enjoy_ – that food?"

Dick shrugged. "I grew up in a circus until I was eight."

"I was a street kid. I'll eat anything."

"My parents were surprisingly neglectful. You'd be surprised how long you can go on a diet of pb and j."

"The League of Assassins does not always have exemplary cuisine."

Bruce shook his head. "How any of you boys survived without me in a mystery."

Alfred cleared his throat rather loudly.

"How any of you boys managed without Alfred is beyond me."

"No sense worrying about that now, Master Bruce. Now, boys, eat your vegetables. Your lunch was sorely lacking them."

"So how 'bout that Snow Whit over there?" Jason leered, elbowing Dick. "Pretty hot, huh?"

Dick looked across the room at Snow White. "Not bad. But not as hot as Ariel."

Tim rolled his eyes. "Of course you go after the redhead."

Dick raised his hands, palms out. "In my defense, personality-wise I'm more attracted to Belle."

"Oh, really?" Tim sounded doubtful.

"Sure. She's beautiful, feisty, and French. No offense, Alfred."

"None taken, young sir."

Tim chuckled a little and looked around at the other princesses. "Now she's pretty cute. That blonde over there."

"Always the blondes with you," Jason snorted.

Dick followed Tim's gaze. "Which one? Cinderella or Sleeping Beauty?"

"Ummm, the one in the pink."

"That's Sleeping Beauty."

"How do you know, Dick?"

"Don't you know anything about Disney Princesses? Sleeping Beauty is always in pink and Cinderella is always in blue." Dick sighed, despairing of his family. "It's as though you've never been to a Disney store."

"I haven't because I'm a real man," Jason taunted.

"I went for Lian," Dick defended.

"Well, I find Cinderella to be superior to Sleeping Beauty," Damian announced. "She has higher cheekbones and a narrower waist. Clearly superior genes."

Jason and Dick snorted with laughter while Tim threw up his hands in despair. "Great, now I have to compete for girls with him?"

Dick gave Tim a one-armed hug. "Don't worry, Tim, you have one big advantage."

"Oh?"

"You're actually old enough to go out on a date."

"Tt."

* * *

The boys had all posed for numerous shots with their respective princesses and were eating dessert. Bruce was sipping coffee and surreptitiously checking his e-mails on his Blackberry. That was when it happened.

Tim saw him first. "Is that Buzz Lightyear?"

Damian whipped his head around to look. He gasped and his face lit up with joy (not that he would ever admit it). "Grayson, Buzz Lightyear is here!"

Dick's grin was ridiculously huge. "I see that, Little D. Should we wave him over here and get a picture?"

"Yes!" Damian paused, calming himself. "I mean, if you would enjoy that, I would as well."

"Oh, I would love it, Dami."

After a few seconds of Dick excitedly waving, Buzz Lightyear was at their table. An exhaustingly-long round of picture taking commenced. Alfred would not rest until he had at least one photo of every possible combination. After twenty minutes, Buzz was finally allowed to move to another table.

"How awesome was that?" Dick crowed. Everyone had to agree it was pretty great. After all, who didn't like _Toy Story_?

Bruce had just finished paying the check when Jason saw him.

"Dudes – it's Woody!"

Bruce hung his head and sighed as the boys excitedly waved Woody over and Alfred began another epic round of picture taking.


	8. Disney World 3

**Final Part of Disney World.**

"And that's all there is to it," finished Susie, the smiling Disney employee. "The fireworks will shoot off behind you. You'll hear them, but won't be able to see them. Try not to be startled."

Dick grinned. It would take more than a few fireworks to startle their family. "Thanks, Susie. I think we've got it." The attention of such a handsome man made Susie blush.

"I've got to go get Mickey," she said quickly, hurrying away.

Alfred pulled the camera out of the bag so he would be ready to take photos the moment Mickey arrived. Damian held a little mallet, to be used to ring the bell that opened the park, in his hand. He was thinking.

Finally, he asked, "Grayson, would you like to ring the bell with me?" Damian had seen Dick's eyes light up when the "opening ceremonies" were explained, but he had insisted that Damian was to ring the bell.

"Really, Little D?"

"Yes, I think if you put your hand over mine we can both satisfactorily ring the bell."

"Awesome." Dick grabbed Damian in a hug. "Thanks, Dami."

"Unhand me before I regret my kindness."

Dick immediately released Damian, but he was still beaming.

"Hey, Mickey's coming!" Tim announced.

"Ears on!" Dick instructed, and everyone, except Bruce, put their ears on.

"Bruce, where are your ears?" Jason asked, a tad annoyed that he had to wear ears and Bruce wasn't.

"Oh, I, uhh, I forgot them in the room." Likely story. Bruce was smirking.

"Humph." Dick crossed his arms in annoyance.

But it was Alfred to the rescue. "Here are your ears, sir." Alfred handed the ears over. "I would never expect you to remember your own headgear."

Bruce grumbled something under his breath but dutifully put on the ears.

Mickey arrived and Alfred took a bunch of pictures, mainly of Mickey with the boys (although Bruce was forced into appearing in a couple). Then it was time for the Mickey Express to roll on in to Magic Kingdom.

"Remember, big smiles!" Susie called to them as they left the station.

"Like this?" Tim asked Dick.

"Bigger, Timmy. It's Disney. You can never smile too big for Disney."

"Then Bruce better kick it up a notch," Jason commented. Bruce scowled at him.

"Bruce!" Dick gasped. "No scowling at Disney."

"Yeah, no scowling," Tim and Jason echoed.

"Fine." Bruce forced a cheerful look on his face, but it looked more like the Beast from _Beauty and the Beast_ trying to grin than any normal human emotion.

"Maybe Bruce should stand towards the back," Tim suggested, trying to banish that creepy grin from his head.

"Good plan." Dick quickly re-arranged everyone, pulling Jason towards the front and shoving Bruce in back.

"Here comes Mickey!" said an excited Disney employee who was waiting to meet the train at the Magic Kingdom station.

"Big smiles!" Dick reminded everyone. "And wave when Mickey does."

The train stopped at the station. "Let's welcome Mickey and the Wayne family from Gotham City," squealed the employee. The employee started to wave at them, which prompted an entire sea of waiting parents and children to wave as well. Mickey waved back, and his wave was picked up by the Waynes. Everyone, even Bruce (albeit reluctantly) waved back at the happy and excited crowd.

"Oh boy," said Mickey. "I can't wait to open the park! I'm so glad I have Damian Wayne and his brothers here to help." Mickey gestured elaborately at Damian, who waved at the crowd, just as Susie had instructed. "Everybody ready?"

The crowd cheered. "On the count of three!" Mickey instructed. "One, two, three!"

On three Damian, with Dick's assistance, hit the shiny, golden bell. As the bell pealed, fireworks shot off behind the station. The crowd began to file through the entrance.

"Have a magical day!" Mickey called after them.

The Waynes, along with Mickey, were then instructed to exit the train, which promptly left the station. Mickey gave everyone a hug (to the chagrin of all the Waynes except Dick), and then went off to spread joy around the park. A beaming employee appeared to thank the Waynes once more and give each of them a pin-badge that proclaimed "I opened the park with Mickey."

Dick and Damian proudly wore their pins. Tim, Jason, and Alfred did so happily, but with slightly less excitement. Bruce glared at the pin as though it were a scarlet letter. But he wore it just the same.

"Where to first?" Dick asked as the family gazed down Main Street, USA.

"Space Mountain," Tim practically shouted. He had been rather disappointed yesterday that they hadn't made it to that ride.

"Space Mountain it is." Dick led the way, although about half-way there, he dropped back to put his arm around Tim and whisper in his ear. "I'm glad you're getting into the spirit of things, Tim."

Tim smiled. "Well, it took me some time, but it is 'the happiest place on earth.'"

"I couldn't agree more."

"Will you two lovebirds hurry up," Jason snapped. "I want to go to Big Thunder Mountain Railroad next." Big Thunder was the park's other big roller coaster.

Dick just grinned. So Jason was starting to enjoy himself, too? "Coming, Jason!"

* * *

Although it was early in the day, there was already a twenty-minute wait for Space Mountain.

"Is this a decent roller coaster?" Damian demanded.

"It's supposed to be pretty good," Tim answered. "It has atmosphere."

"Atmosphere?" Damian scoffed.

"Yeah, sure. It's inside so sometimes it's dark. Or there are lights that show you outer space or whatever," Jason attempted to explain.

Damian frowned. He was not convinced this ride was going to provide as many thrills as it claimed.

"Oh, yeah, Space Mountain is scary," Dick agreed. "Who's going to ride with me and protect me?"

"I am," Bruce interjected.

"Oh, Bruce, thanks," Dick said, sidling up to him.

Damian, however, was outraged. His mouth hung open for a moment before he gasped, "Who's going to ride with me?"

"I will, demon child. Let old Jason keep away the space baddies."

Damian scowled but didn't object. At least he didn't have to ride with Drake.

It was darker than Damian had expected inside the ride. He wasn't scared, just impressed that Disney had a ride that was so not-cute.

"Be brave, Dami," Dick whispered to him from behind.

"I might say the same to you, Grayson."

Dick leaned back in his seat. "I'll be fine. I have Bruce to protect me."

Although protection wasn't what Bruce had in mind. All of a sudden, in a particularly dark portion of the ride, Dick shrieked. "Something grabbed me!"

* * *

"Dude, what is wrong with you?" Jason asked as they exited the ride. "It' not like there's aliens on that ride."

"No, but something seriously grabbed me. Like this." Dick imitated the grab on Jason's shoulder.

"Whatever."

"Are you sure, Dick?" Tim asked. "I didn't see anything and I was right behind you."

"How could you? It was too dark!"

"Maybe Drake did it," Damian suggested, anger in his voice.

"Me!" Tim squeaked.

Dick shook his head. "Tim would never do a…" He trailed off, thinking. "Bruce?"

"Yes?"

"You grabbed me, didn't you?"

"Excuse me?"

"You did it, old man. You were so eager to ride with me." Dick shook his head. "You're riding Big Thunder Mountain Railroad with Jason."

Jason grinned maliciously. "And if you touch me, I will cut you."

"I don't doubt it," Bruce muttered.

* * *

After Big Thunder Mountain Railroad, Jason announced, "Let's ride Splash Mountain."

"The water ride?" Tim asked.

"Yeah, man, it's hot as f-."

"Jason! Disney!" Dick interrupted.

"Florida," Jason finished lamely.

"Hot as Florida?" Tim snorted. "Yeah, we're in Florida, you idiot."

"Shut up, replacement."

"Perhaps we need a water ride to cool your tempers, young masters," Alfred drily commented, herding everyone towards the line.

They were all able to fit in one boat, lined up roughly according to size, with Damian at the front and Bruce at the back. They were journeying through the ride, having a fine time, until Dick suddenly shouted, "Goose!"

Everyone except Jason promptly ducked. He was shot straight in the face and chest with a jet of water, courtesy of the impish Brer Rabbit.

"Gahh," Jason screamed, wiping water from his face.

After they left the ride, Jason turned on Dick. "Why the hell did you yell 'goose'?"

Dick smiled. "First, no swearing. Second, it was a joke. You know, 'duck, duck, goose!'"

"I hate you."

"Jason, I thought you would like getting wet," Tim piped up. "After all, you're the one who said it was 'hot as Florida' here."

"Argh," Jason called, lurching forward in an attempt to throttle Tim.

"Speaking of 'argh,' I think our next stop should be Pirates of the Caribbean," Dick suggested. "Who's with me?"

"Aye, aye, Captain," Tim called from up ahead, as he continued to dodge Jason.

* * *

"They based an entire series of movies on this ride?" Damian scoffed. He could hardly believe it – this ride was pretty lame.

"Eh, loosely based, Little D."

"But when the movies turned out to be a success, Disney updated the ride," Tim helpfully pointed out. "See, there's Captain Jack Sparrow."

"Johnny Depp is so beautiful," Dick sighed wistfully.

"Yeah, I think he's prettier than you, Goldie," Jason cackled.

Dick pouted. "Johnny Depp doesn't have my butt."

As they exited the ride, Damian noticed a sword out of the corner of his eye. "What's that?" he asked, tugging Dick's arm and pointing.

"I don't know," Dick answered, walking towards the unidentified sword. When he reached the counter the sword was on, he grinned.

"We need to do this."

"Do what?" Tim asked.

"This." Dick pointed to a sign advertising "pirate make-overs."

* * *

"Let's swashbuckle around this park, mateys," Pirate Dick announced as he and Pirates Damian, Tim, and Jason emerged.

"Wait, young sirs. Let me take your picture first," Alfred insisted.

After a bit of posing, the pirate crew headed over to Aladdin's Magic Carpet ride. As they exited the ride, Aladdin appeared from around the corner.

"Hey, let's get our picture with Aladdin!" Dick suggested exuberantly, pushing his brothers towards the character. Alfred followed with the camera at the ready. After a few shots, the brothers moved away. Dick thanked Aladdin, while Damian attempted to have a short conversation with him in Arabic. Aladdin, however, gave the boy a confused look and hurried away.

"What was wrong with him?" Damian asked, clearly offended. "All I did was thank him."

Dick chuckled. "And tell him that his outfit was culturally and historically inaccurate."

"Well it is!"

"I know, Little D. But Aladdin didn't understand you."

"Why? My Arabic is flawless. Even better than yours. Even better than Father's."

"Aladdin doesn't know Arabic."

Damian threw his hands in the air in annoyance. "Well, he's Arabic, isn't he?"

Dick looked thoughtful. "Actually, in the story, isn't he from China?"

Damian frowned. He and Dick had been reading the _Arabian Nights_ recently. "I believe you are correct, Grayson. Should I speak to him in Chinese then?"

Dick put his arm around Damian and led him away. "Let's just leave Aladdin alone, shall we?"

* * *

Many more days of fun ensued. Although the family went to every park, none were quite as much fun as Magic Kingdom. By the time they left, even Bruce had to admit he had enjoyed himself (although he would deny it to anyone who asked).

A couple of days after their return home, a package arrived for Bruce at Wayne Enterprises. It contained two framed photographs from their Disney trip. Both had mattings around them, wherein messages were written.

The first was a picture of the entire family – the boys, Bruce, and Alfred – posing with Buzz Lightyear. The matting had been signed by all five of them. The message read:

Dear Bruce,

We love you to Infinity and Beyond!

The second picture was of the four boys in their pirate gear. The message read:

Dear Dad,

We love you with all of our he-arrrrrrrr-ts!

If he was going to get presents like that, Bruce thought that maybe he could go to Disney World again next year.


	9. Roy visits a crack fic beware!

**This is a total crack fic that I randomly found on my computer. I decided to post it here, as it is certainly ridiculous. However, I'll get back to stuff with the four brothers with the next chapter. **

**Definitely rated T for talk of sex (nothing graphic) and drinking of alcohol (including underage). It takes place before Damian arrives and when Jason is still dead. I hope the characters aren't too OOC; I think they have their moments of being in character, as well as ones of being a bit out of character.**

* * *

Dick had set this quiet Friday night aside to teach Tim about the stars and constellations. He had been surprised when Roy showed up at the Manor door, but he invited his buddy in and invited him to go star-gazing in the backyard.

"Sure. I've got nothing else to do," Roy replied. And so it turned into a party of three would-be astronomers.

Dick spread out the blanket and the three lay down on their backs on it, Tim in the middle. They stared silently up at the stars for a few minutes, eyes adjusting to the darkness, before Dick said, "You know what would make this better?"

"A drink?" Roy suggested, reaching for his backpack, which he had placed on the ground next to him.

"Yeah, what do you have?" Tim asked excitedly. Roy could generally be relied on for a few contraband cans of cola.

Roy pulled a large glass bottle out of his bag. "How about some vodka?"

"Vodka?" Dick sat upright. "Where did you get vodka?"

"Ollie gave it to me. We had a tiff a few days ago, and he was in the wrong. Rather than actually apologize, he's trying to buy my forgiveness."

"You know, when Bruce apologizes to me, it's usually with a new car or, at the very least, a motorcycle."

"Yeah, last time he screwed me over I got an X-Box," Tim added.

"Well Ollie's not quite as flush as Bats. We can't all get Corvette's every time daddy's mean."

Dick snorted. "It was a Ferrari."

"Whatever."

"Given what Bruce was apologizing for, it would have taken at least two Corvettes to get my forgiveness."

"You brat." Although secretly Roy felt Dick deserved a thousand Ferraris for putting up with Bruce.

"Anyway, since Ollie bought it, it must be good stuff," Dick suggested.

"What do you mean, since Ollie bought it?"

"Well, I just figured if you had bought it, it would probably be cheap. I'd rather not drink paint thinner."

Roy laughed. He was not offended: he drank cheap booze and he knew it. "Nah, it should be good stuff. Ollie only drinks the best."

"Must be awesome then."

"Yeah." Roy held the bottle aloft. "So, you want some?"

"Yes!" Dick and Tim both responded.

Roy started to unscrew the cap and looked at Tim. "Aren't you still in high school?"

"Technically yes, but I'm responsible."

Roy had the cap off. He passed the bottle over Tim and handed it to Dick saying, "You try it first and let me know how strong it is." Turning back to Tim, he asked, "Are you driving anywhere or going on patrol again?" When Tim shook his head "no" to all his questions, Roy shrugged. "Sure, I don't care."

"Sweet!" Tim fist-pumped the air. "I promise you won't regret this."

Roy smiled. "As long as you don't throw up on me, I won't have any regrets. How's the vodka?" he added, looking at Dick.

Dick passed the bottle back to Roy. "It's gooood. A bit strong but it goes down easy. You can tell it's quality."

"Good." Roy took a swig. "That is good." He passed the bottle to Tim. "Here."

Tim took a gulp. "Wow, that's way better than anything I've filched from my dad's liquor cabinet."

Dick looked a bit shocked, but Roy just rolled his eyes. "You sound like me when I was young."

Several more minutes passed, in which the three continued to stare up at the stars and pass the bottle of vodka from one end to the other. Tim was glad he was in the middle; it meant he could take twice as many sips as either Dick or Roy because the bottle was always passed through him. He started feeling giddy and talkative.

"Hey guys, let's play a game," Tim suggested.

"What kind of game?" Roy asked cautiously.

Dick, who had been taking a pull from the vodka, lowered the bottle. "Yeah, what kind of game?" he queried suspiciously.

Tim laughed. Actually, it was more of a giggle, which should have been a clear indication to Dick and Roy that he had drunk a little too much. "Well, maybe it's not a game, so much as an honesty session."

"Meaning?"

"You have to answer the question. Sooo, first one: what supervillain do you most want to sleep with?"

"You shouldn't end sentences with a preposition," Roy teased.

Tim laughed wildly. "Fine, then. What villain do you want to shag?"

Dick and Roy both laughed. "Well, if you put it that way, I guess we'll have to answer," Roy added.

"I'll go first," Dick volunteered. "Talia."

"Oh yeah." Tim gave his brother a high-five. "Selina."

"Ewwww, you two do realize that Bruce has tapped both those asses numerous times, right?" Roy made a face. "I mean taking sloppy seconds is one thing, but sloppy seconds to your dad? Gross."

"Don't judge, man." Dick said. "I stand by my choice."

"Me, too." Tim laughed. This vodka was awesome.

"I'd pick Ivy. I'm surprised you didn't, Dick, what with her having red hair and all."

"She's a fantastic second choice," Dick declared. "But I'll be a gentleman and let you have first dibs."

"How kind. I know she's a criminal, but I admire her environmentalism."

"She's an eco-terrorist!" Tim gasped.

"Yeah, but protecting the environment's important. Her heart's in the right place."

"Yeah, whatever." Tim rolled his eyes and leaned over to poke Roy. "What guy would you do?"

"Oh Riddler, definitely," Roy replied without a moment's hesitation.

"That dork!" Tim shouted.

"Hey now, he's very dapper in his bowler hat and question-mark suit. You can't underestimate the power of a good outfit." Roy took a swig of vodka. "I do have a soft spot for Scarecrow too, but I couldn't be with a guy who treated every day like it was an episode of _Fear Factor_."

Dick chuckled. "Scarecrow would have a field day with you."

"No doubt," Roy responded, smiling a little at Dick's joke. "So, Dick, who's your pick?"

"Killer Croc. He brings out the circus in me."

"Haha, good one." Roy and Dick both laughed and reached over Tim to fist bump one another.

"Tim?" Dick prompted.

Tim made a face – he hadn't thought this far ahead. Of course, he couldn't not answer because Dick and Roy both had with ease. Why did Dick (who some people kinda, sorta, maybe, probably thought swung both ways) and Roy (who would screw anything) have to be so open about sexuality? Suddenly, Tim had an idea.

"I'd pick Scarface."

"The puppet?" Dick asked, confused.

Roy laughed uproariously. "I hear he has a hard wood."

Dick laughed now, too. "And he likes fi-."

"That's dirty, Dick," Roy interrupted. But he laughed even harder.

Tim sighed. Maybe picking the inanimate object hadn't been such a good idea after all.

Eager to change the conversation, he suddenly asked, "So what hero would you do?"

"Like in the JLA?" Dick asked.

"Yeah or Teen Titans or whatever," Tim replied.

Roy pointed at Dick. "And it can't be someone you've already done."

Dick grinned devilishly. "That barely leaves anyone."

Roy rolled his eyes. "Don't flatter yourself. Unlike me, you haven't even done close to half of the women, and if we count the men, you've got a long way to go."

Dick sighed. "It will be the work of a lifetime."

Tim nudged his brother. "We could do it. I'd be happy to help! But only with the women."

Roy shook his head. "I'm going to hope that's the vodka talking – in both of you! Because I'm obviously going to be the one to achieve that goal."

Tim sighed dreamily. "I'd do Diana."

Dick gave nearly the exact same sigh. "Me too."

"What is with you two and Bruce's leftovers?" Roy asked, mildly disturbed.

Both guys sat up and looked at Roy. "Bruce seriously did Diana?" Dick asked. He and Tim both looked at Roy expectantly.

Roy shrugged, surprised at their reaction. "Word on the street is..." he trailed off.

"Man, we're always the last to know," Dick exclaimed, punching his right fist into his left palm for emphasis.

"Tell me about it," Tim commiserated.

"I guess I'd go with Raven," Roy offered, hoping to change the subject.

Tim laughed. "Got a little emo in you there, Roy?"

"Tim." Dick lightly punched Tim's shoulder. "Raven's not emo."

"Coulda fooled me."

Roy waved his hands rapidly in the air. "Oh, wait. I changed my mind. I pick," he paused for dramatic effect, "Oracle."

Tim howled with laughter. "Hell, yeah!" He gave Roy a high five. "Now you're talking!"

Dick was horrified. "Oracle doesn't count! Oracle doesn't count!"

"Oh yes she does. And she is so fine."

Tim nodded rapidly in agreement. "Oh, yeah. I might have to change my pick." He turned to Roy. "Surely taking your brother's leftovers is better than doing your dad's?"

Roy laughed. "Most assuredly."

Dick was pouting/fuming/trying not to laugh, so Tim turned to Roy. "And guy?"

"Cyborg."

"He's half machine!" Tim exclaimed.

"What's your point?"

"No Superman?" Dick asked impishly, his good mood returning.

Roy frowned. "If I wanted to have sex with a boy scout, I would have lost my virginity at thirteen." Roy cackled. "Oh wait – I did!"

"Well, I'm going to have to go with Wally," Dick interjected.

"Of course." Tim rolled his eyes at the obviousness of that answer.

Roy laughed. "Hey Dick, we said it had to be someone you haven't already known carnally."

"Burn!" Tim hooted.

"Hey, I'm following the rules," Dick said with mock offense in his voice.

"Sure you are." Roy just grinned, then elbowed Tim. "And you?"

"Kon-El."

"Duh," Roy and Dick said simultaneously, laughing.

Tim just smiled, took another swig of vodka, and started to laugh with them. It had been a fun game.

Seconds later a familiar voice asked from the back door, "And what's so funny out here?"

Tim went white. Dick hissed, "shit," while Roy just laughed more. "Eat, drink, and be merry for in five minutes we die," he thought.

"Hey, Bruce, how was your date?" Dick asked innocently. Tim burst into laughter at the sound of Dick's stilted voice. "_Stupid vodka_," the younger boy thought. "_At least I'm a fun drunk, though_."

"It was fine," Bruce answered emotionlessly. It had actually been rather dreary, but now was not the time.

"That's good," Dick said, bobbing his head in a nod. As his head moved back and forth, Bruce thought he saw the light catch something. "_Is that a bottle in Dick's hand_?" he mused. "_And why is Tim laughing so much?_"

"What's in the bottle?"

Dick froze. "Uhhh, what bottle?"

Bruce frowned. The bottle was clearly the root of the problem. "The bottle in your hand, Richard," he replied sternly.

Dick gulped. "_Shit, Bruce is pissed already_," he thought in a panic. "It's uhhh – ''

"It's vodka!" Tim burst out. "And it's really good." Apparently not being able to keep his mouth shut was another side effect of too much alcohol.

Bruce fixed Dick with a bat glare. "Richard, did you give Timothy vodka?" His voice was like ice or a steel blade, slowly cutting into Dick.

"Uhhh..."

"He did not. I gave Tim vodka," Roy said in an even voice. "It's my vodka; I'll give it to whoever I want."

Tim and Dick exchanged glances. This was true friendship right here. The alcohol had clearly emboldened Roy.

For a fraction of a second, Bruce looked put out. He hadn't expected Roy to cop to the vodka. Of course, he might have known Roy was the one who had led his precious boys astray.

"And where did you get vodka?" he demanded.

Roy looked a bit irritated. After all, he was over twenty-one; he could just walk into a store and buy it. "Ollie gave it to me."

Bruce wasn't a bit surprised by that. Ollie was a terrible role model. "You do realize Tim is under-age, don't you? That it's illegal for him to drink alcohol?"

Roy waved his hand in the air, indicating he thought the drinking age was immaterial. "He's legal in Russia." He hoped to God Bruce wouldn't try to refute that statement.

"This isn't Russia," Bruce responded sternly.

"True, but age ain't nothing but a number and the drinking age ain't nothing but an arbitrary choice. Isn't twenty-one a little excessive?"

"That's not the point. The law is the law."

"This from a man who commits aggravated assault on a nightly basis." Roy shook his head. "If you're going to try to convince us that Tim shouldn't be able to drink a little in the safety of your backyard, you're going to have to do better than that."

Dick, Tim, and Bruce were all stunned. Did Roy just backtalk the Bat?

When Bruce didn't reply within about three seconds, Roy decided to claim victory. "_The early bird gets the worm_," he thought.

"That's what I thought," he declared. "The drinking age is just another arbitrary rule." He reached over and took the bottle of vodka from Dick, and screwed the cap back on. "Here, have a drink." He tossed the bottle to Bruce.

Despite Roy's horrible throw, Bruce had excellent reflexes and he deftly caught the bottle. He glanced at the label. It did look like a decent bottle, a Russian import. He removed the cap and took a gulp. "Wow, that is good." And he wasn't lying.

Roy grinned. "See? You just need to chill out, Bruce. Come hang with us. You can lie down by Dick." He gestured to the other end of the blanket.

"Yeah, Bruce," Dick said excitedly. "Come sit here." He patted the spot next to him, while simultaneously scooting over. "Move over," he muttered to Tim when he bumped into his younger brother.

Bruce, vodka bottle in hand and against his better judgment, came over and plopped down. He took another drink. "So, what were you kids talking about?"

"Astronomy," Dick said hurriedly.

"Nothing," Tim replied quickly.

"What heroes and villains we'd bang," Roy answered as though that were the most normal conversation in the world. For him, it probably was.

"Seriously?" Bruce asked, mildly incredulous.

"Yeah, seriously," Dick admitted.

"I don't think I've had enough to drink yet to take part in that conversation."

"Take a few more sips, Bruce," Roy encouraged. "Because you are on the blanket of truth now."

Tim laughed evilly. "And no one leaves without answering our questions."

Bruce looked at Dick. Surely his eldest would not abandon him in his hour of need.

Dick grinned. "Chug-a-lug, Dad."

Clearly Bruce had imbibed a bit too much wine on his date because it only took a few more sips of vodka to make him talk.

"So what supervillain would you like to sleep with?" Tim asked.

"And it can't be someone with whom you've already had the pleasure," Roy added. "If that even leaves anyone."

Bruce frowned slightly. He wasn't that big of a playboy. "I guess Poison Ivy."

"Good call," Roy exclaimed, leaning over to high-five Bruce, who, surprisingly, high-fived back.

"Roy picked Ivy, too," Dick explained.

"Who did you two pick then?" Bruce demanded.

Roy started to laugh. Dick and Tim looked at each other, panicked.

"Uhhh, shoot, I forget who I said," Dick said. "You remember, Tim?"

"Man, no, I totally forget."

Roy paused in his laughter. "Geez, you both said Harley, you crazy kids."

"Oh yeah," Dick and Tim responded simultaneously. "How could we have forgotten?"

"Probably because it was such a bad choice you wanted to blot it from your minds," Roy suggested. "That girl needs therapy. Why she stays in such a ridiculously abusive relationship is beyond me."

Bruce nodded his head. "Uh-huh. You both said Harley."

"Totally."

"All right, what guy would you do?" Roy demanded. "Stop delaying, Bruce."

"Hmmmm." Bruce pondered a moment. "Maybe Harvey."

"Two-Face!" Dick burst out. "Do you have some sort of unrequited love for your best friend, Bruce?"

"Hey, I could see it," Roy offered. "Harvey isn't bad looking."

"Are you kidding?" Tim exclaimed. "Half his face has been melted from acid!"

"Yeah, but the other half's pretty handsome. And half a handsome face is better than an entirely ugly one. You gotta try to see the glass as half full, Tim."

"So who did you guys pick?" Bruce asked.

"Killer Croc."

Scarface."

"Riddler."

"Oh, Riddler, that's a good one," Bruce mused.

"Yes!" Roy thrust his hands in the air in celebration. "Do I know how to pick 'em or what! Pass me the vodka; I need a celebratory shot." The bottle was duly passed.

"So, what heroes would you do, Bruce? JLA and affiliated teams," Tim asked.

"Umm, well, maybe Di-''

Roy made a noise like he was clearing his throat.

"Zatanna, maybe? I'm not sure."

Tim and Dick shared a look. "Does Zatanna even count?" Tim asked.

"She counts," Roy said decisively.

"Now for guys," Dick prompted.

"Must I? All the guys are either men who annoy me or my sons' friends, which is just wrong."

"What about Aquaman?" Roy suggested. "He could use some love."

Dick and Tim hooted with laughter.

Bruce sighed. "Fine. Aquaman."

"It's a good thing you're really good at holding your breath," Dick giggled.

"Yeah, but I bet it will be difficult when they're making out," Tim added. The two boys continued to laugh.

Bruce frowned. "I need a drink. Pass me that vodka."

"Yes sir," Roy replied, handing the bottle over.

Bruce had just raised the bottle to his lips when a crisp British voice asked, "What is going on out here?"

There was immediate silence as Alfred walked towards the blanket.

"What is the cause of all this noise?" A pause. "Master Bruce are you drinking vodka straight from the bottle?"

"Uhhhh, yes," Bruce admitted.

"Really, Master Bruce, and in front of the young people. What kind of example are you setting?"

Bruce suddenly felt like a child. "It's not my fault. They started it." The three young crime fighters were rolling on the ground with laughter.

"Honestly, Master Bruce. You have made some questionable judgments in your time, but-"

"Calm down, Alfred," Roy said through his laughter. "We promise not to mimic Bruce and his foul drinking habits." Dick and Tim nodded vigorously. "Yeah," they agreed.

"Well, if you children-"

Bruce had been waiting for the right moment to bring Alfred down to his level. As Alfred focused on the three younger people, Bruce reached over and pulled Alfred down onto the blanket. "Have a seat," he told the flustered butler. He offered the bottle. "Vodka?"

"Master Bruce, really."

"It's good, Alf," Dick said. "Just have a sip."

Alfred sighed and took the proffered bottle. He wiped the opening with his handkerchief, then took a tentative sip.

"More," Bruce practically ordered.

Alfred drank more. "I say, this is rather good."

"Only the best, straight from Russia," Roy informed him.

"Straight from Russia?" Alfred sounded a tad worried.

"Oh Alfred, the Cold War's over. You can stop worrying. The Russians are our buddies now."

Alfred took a few more sips of the vodka. The bottle was nearly empty. "Finish it off, Alf," Dick suggested.

Alfred did so, and lay back on the blanket, looking incredibly relaxed.

"So Alfred," Tim said with a laugh. "What villain would you do?"

"I beg your pardon, Master Timothy?"

"You know, what super criminal would you have sex with?"

Instead of immediately castigating Tim for such coarse talk, Alfred appeared lost in thought. "Hmmmm. Well, even though she kidnapped me and tried to destroy my country, I suppose I might pick Red Claw."

Bruce was shocked. Dick and Tim began to hoot and holler their approval, while Alfred sat back looking rather pleased and bemused. Roy laughed. "_Man, I don't know what Ollie put in that vodka_," he thought, "_but it was damn good_."

* * *

**Red Claw is in **_**Batman: The Animated Series**_**. The episode referenced is called "The Lion and the Unicorn." I highly recommend it for the following reasons:**

**Dark Deco animation of London.**

**A Castle!**

**Random cockney British thugs who remind me of Jasper and Horace from **_**101 Dalmatians**_**.**

**Bruce getting schooled by Alfred over the phone.**

**Dick doing gymnastics shirtless in the Batcave.**


	10. A Little Jaunt

A Little Jaunt

A**n attempt at the great outdoors for E-Dantes and a foreign country for CHiKa-RoXy**

* * *

A Bed and Breakfast in Northern England

"What are we doing here?" Jason groaned, flopping down on his bed and staring at the ceiling.

"Bruce is meeting with a business partner who lives here in northern England, so we -." Tim replied, but was cut off by a curt Jason.

"That was a rhetorical complaint!"

Tim rolled his eyes. "Well, don't complain so much, Jason. We had a nice time yesterday, visiting that castle."

"Yes, Todd, and even you enjoyed seeing the two-headed goat at the museum," Damian interposed, looking up from his book with a glare.

"Yeah, okay, that was fine. But that's all this one-horse _village_ has to offer. And I'm bored."

"Jason, please, this town has so much more to offer." Dick paused for dramatic effect. "There's an old medieval monastery about a mile from the town center. Let's go see it!"

"Seriously?" Jason rolled over and groaned into his pillow. "Just because you worked at some medieval museum for a hot minute doesn't give you permission to -."

This time Tim got to interrupt Jason. "Let's go. I have the map!"

* * *

"This can't be right," Tim muttered to himself in confusion.

"What's wrong?" Dick came up from the back of the group, where he had been lurking to make sure Jason didn't run off, and draped his arm around Tim's shoulders.

"Well, the map clearly says to follow this route," Tim pointed to the relevant section of the map, "but the footpath dead ends here."

"Hmm. And where's here?"

Tim gestured at the fenced-off area in front of them. "A cow pasture."

"Did you say 'cows,' Drake?" Damian asked with sudden interest.

"Yes, he did, Little D." Tim, on the other hand, continued to ignore Damian.

"I rather like cows." Damian-speak for "I love cows!"

"Yeah, well, too bad," Tim snapped with relish. "These are somebody else's cows, and we need to stay away."

"Don't be ridiculous," Damian retorted. "The path clearly goes through this pasture. Observe."

Damian gestured grandly at a slightly-worn dirt path, just visible beneath the large number of cows' hooves.

"I hate to say it, but the Demon Child is right," Jason commented dryly. "I see a path."

Damian crossed his arms and smiled smugly. "Tt."

"I don't know," Tim hesitated. "It goes through someone's property. We shouldn't trespass."

Damian waved his hand flippantly at Tim. "Maybe a mongrel like you shouldn't, Drake. But I am the scion of the Houses of al-Ghul and Wayne. I am crossing this pasture."

"Damian," Dick gently reproved, "don't say things like that to Tim."

But before Dick could request an apology, Damian had jumped over the stile and was making his way across the pasture.

"Well if that little shit's going," Jason muttered, jumping over the stile.

Dick and Tim exchanged glances. Dick then leaped over the stile, while Tim tentatively climbed over.

Cautiously, Jason, Dick, and Tim moved along the path. Damian strode confidently, as if he owned the place. Yet even he could only make it so far.

A large brown cow was blocking the path. She was standing right across the center of the dirt walkway; since the pasture was so crowded, there was no way for Damian to scot around her. That cow needed to move or no one was going any further.

Damian stopped a few feet from the cow and glared at her. She looked back.

"Dami, step away from that cow. She's glaring at you." Dick, Jason, and Tim had caught up with Damian and were standing a few steps behind him.

"Grayson, you're an idiot. Cows can't glare." Damian shook his head and then turned his attention back to the cow. "Move!" he demanded.

The cow gazed impassively at Damian. She had no intention of moving.

"Why you -." Damian muttered some expletives under his breath. Then he took a step towards the cow, hoping to scare her away.

But the cow was no coward. When Damian took a step forward, she took a step forward.

"Uhhh," Dick said inarticulately and uneasily. Jason and Tim both took a step backwards.

Damian and the cow were now locked in a stare-down. For several seconds they just glared, boring into each other's eyes. And then, the cow took a step forward, towards Damian.

Dick gasped.

The cow took another step forward. And then another, all the while staring Damian down.

"I'll save you!" Dick shouted, scooping Damian up as though his brother were a toddler, turning tail, and running for the safety of the other side of the fence. By the time Dick reached the stile, Tim and Jason were already safely on the other side, having dashed for cover the moment Dick shouted.

Dick passed Damian over the stile to Jason, who set the littlest Wayne on his feet while Dick hopped over to safety.

"Grayson, what was that nonsense?" Damian demanded hotly. "I had everything under control."

"Under control!" Jason scoffed before Dick could reply. "That cow was about to stomp all over you."

"Ridiculous! I cannot believe my father would tolerate such idiots! It was a cow."

Tim shook his head. "No, it was a demented cow. Look." He pointed, and all four boys clearly saw that the cow was still staring at them.

Jason let out a low whistle. "That is fu-."

"Let's find a different path, shall we?" Dick interrupted. He hated it when Jason used "really bad" swear words in front of Damian.

"Sure." Tim the Tour Guide glanced at the map. "There's another path on the opposite side of the river."

"Great. Let's go." Dick started herding everyone towards the new path.

"If I'd known I'd still have to go to this stupid monastery, I would have let that possessed cow kill you all," Jason muttered.

* * *

Ten minutes later, the Wayne foursome was strolling along the other path. This one was closer to the river and had a substantially better view, although it would take a bit longer to get to the monastery.

"But just think, if we hadn't been threatened by that cow, we wouldn't have taken this path and seen this great view!" Dick valiantly tried to cheer his brothers up.

"Yeah, I guess so." Tim was still a bit disconcerted over the cow.

"That cow was not threatening us," Damian insisted, throwing another stick into the river. He enjoyed watching the currents grab ahold of his sticks and whirl them away – not that he would ever admit that this new path was better. Someone in the family had to be braver than a cow.

"Sheep ahead," Jason announced abruptly.

"Is that some kind of code?" Tim asked, looking at his map.

"No, Replacement. Sheep are ahead. Get your nose out of that damn map and look."

Jason was correct. Not ten yards away were dozens of sheep, placidly munching on grass.

"But, but, this is where the path is!" Tim spluttered. Not more livestock!

"Well, the path must go through these sheep, just like it went through those cows." Tim glared at Jason, who shrugged. "What? I don't make the rules."

"You just break them, right?" Dick joked.

"We can't all be obedient ass-kissers, Goldie."

"So are we going to walk through that herd of sheep?" Tim queried.

"Timmy, surely we can handle a few sheep. They're not nearly as dangerous as cows," Dick reasoned.

Damian "tutted" in derision.

"But we'll be -," Tim lowered his voice, "- _trespassing_."

Jason rolled his eyes. "Then let's just hope Farmer McGregor doesn't come out with a hoe and chase us down."

Tim stood there for a moment, warring with himself. Should he turn back or trespass on the farmer's land? He wanted to see that monastery, but he hated to break too many laws.

"We'll be fine, Timmy," Dick assured him.

"Okay," Tim agreed. "But let's make it quick."

And so the four moved forward. They were half-way through the meadow when Tim looked up and saw a farmer approaching them.

"Gah! We've been discovered!" Tim frantically looked around for a place to hide, but all he saw were sheep and grass as far as the eye could see.

"Shit," Jason murmured.

"Do you think we'll go to jail for this?" Tim whimpered (but in a manly way).

"You are pathetic, Drake," Damian hissed, even as he stepped behind Dick for protection.

"Jail!" Jason scoffed. "What if he has a gun?"

"A gun!" Tim gasped.

Dick held his hands out. "Guys, calm down. We're in England. He won't have a gun."

"Well, he has a pretty big walking stick with him," Tim commented. "And I left my bo staff at home."

"No worries. I'll just turn on the Grayson charm."

"We are doomed," Jason predicted.

Dick, very maturely, stuck his tongue out at Jason before turning around and waving to the farmer.

"What are you doing?" Tim hissed, visions of a Dickensian prison dancing before his eyes.

"Hello, boys!" The farmer called back jovially, using his walking stick to part the sheep like he was Moses at the Red Sea.

"Hello, sir. We're looking for the abbey. Are we going the right direction?" Dick grinned.

"Yes. Keep going until you reach the old wooden bridge. Cross the bridge and the abbey's right there on the other side of the river."

"Thank you."

"Where in the States are you boys from?"

"Gotham City."

"I haven't been there, but I have a cousin who lives in New Jersey." Dick raised an eyebrow. That was the fourth person they had met this trip who had relative in New Jersey. Were British people required to move there?

"We're pretty close to there."

"Well, I hope the sheep didn't bother you. You boys probably don't see too many farm animals in the big city." The farmer chuckled a bit to himself.

"No, sir. And I hope we didn't disturb your sheep by … umm… trespassing on your land."

"Trespassing? You're on the public footpath."

Dick was confused. "But isn't this your land?"

"Oh, sure. But the government can put a footpath wherever they like and you have to let the public use it." The farmer laughed a bit at the boys' confused expressions. "The sheep don't mind!"

"Oh." Dick paused, letting the information sink in. "Well, thank you, sir."

"Enjoy the abbey!" The farmer moved away and the foursome continued to walk along the path.

As soon as they were out of earshot, Jason turned on Tim. "We weren't even trespassing! You got us all worked up for nothing."

"What! You were scared too!"

"I was not," Jason insisted.

"Yes, you were. You thought maybe he had a gun!"

"I was mocking you!"

"No, you weren't."

"Yes, I was."

"No, you were-."

"Enough!" Dick interrupted. "We're at the bridge."

The abbey rose majestically from behind the trees on the other side. Although it was now in ruins, you could tell it had once been an impressive structure.

For the next hour, Dick regaled his brothers with the minutiae of life in a medieval monastery. Jason was cursing the day Dick had ever been hired at the Cloisters, but Damian and Tim actually seemed to appreciate the history lesson.

But all that goodwill evaporated when Dick's spiel was over. Tim wanted to take the "sheep path" back, while Damian insisted on the "cow path". They agreed to a game of rock-paper-scissors to decide.

Damian won.

"You cheated!" Tim shouted.

"I did not. You're a sore loser, Drake."

"Am not. And you did to cheat!"

"Did not!"

"Did to!"

"Did not!"

"Did to!" Soon the shouting match degenerated into a wrestling match. As the two younger boys struggled with each other, rolling around on the ground, Jason turned to Dick.

"I say we leave them here."

"Jason, we can't do that."

"Tim has the map. They'll be fine."

"I'm not worried about them getting lost."

"Come on, we'll play our own game of rock-paper-scissors. I win, we leave without them. You win, and we'll be all _responsible_."

Dick smiled wanly. "Don't tempt me, Jason."

"Come on," Jason encouraged.

"Well…."

"Okay, throw on the count of three," Jason ordered. "One… two… three!"

* * *

**I basically had this happen to me. I am scared of cows.**


	11. Las Vegas

**I'm relieved to know that I'm not the only person scared of cows. Some cows are very nice, but some (I'm sure of it) have murder in their eyes.**

**Anyway, we're switching gears. This is a belated story about Tim turning 21. The boys are going to Las Vegas and **_**The Hangover**_**-esque shenanigans shall ensue. Since the ages of the Bat Fam changed with the reboot, let's pretend Damian is in middle school when Tim turns 21. Taking a ten-year-old boy to Vegas is ridiculous, but a thirteen-year-old? Totally okay.**

**Many thanks to DreamWriterx3 for the inspiration for this story.**

**And while we're on the subject of birthdays: happy belated 25****th**** birthday to Glimare! (I saw that on one of your story updates). It's good to know there are other twenty-somethings out there!**

**And thank you Cirruz The Night Elf for appreciating my grammar. I try.**

* * *

"We'll be touching down in Las Vegas in about half an hour," the pilot's voice crackled over the intercom of one of Bruce Wayne's private jets. Inside were Dick, Jason, Tim, and Damian, all comfortably lounging in the plush seats.

"Wow," Tim breathed in reaction to the announcement. "I still can't believe you guys are taking me to Vegas for my twenty-first birthday! Connor was so jealous."

Dick smiled as he handed Tim a drink (technically, Tim had turned twenty-one the day before; Bruce and Alfred had insisted that Tim's actual birthday be a day with dignity). "Well thank Jason, Timlet; it was his idea."

"Don't mention it," Jason muttered before Tim could actually offer him any thanks. Jason was still irritated that he had been forced to rely on Dick to seal the deal. He had spent weeks trying to convince Bruce to let them go to Vegas and had met with nothing but firm refusals. He let Dick in on the plan, and Goldie had secured them permission in ten minutes. Damn him!

"Thanks anyway, Jason," Tim replied. He was trying to be polite.

"What I don't understand," Jason groused, "is why we brought along a middle-schooler. This is Vegas for cryin' out loud!"

Damian glared daggers at Jason. He didn't like being reminded that he was a child.

"Aww, Jay, don't be like that." Dick handed his brother a beer in an effort to appease him. "I didn't want Little D to miss out on the Cirque de Soleil show we're seeing tonight."

"We're going to Cirque de Soleil!" Jason and Tim shouted simultaneously - Tim with excitement and Jason with annoyance.

"Yeah, of course."

"How did you get tickets?" Tim asked. "Those shows sell out months in advance."

"Well, I'm -."

"An acrobat," Jason finished tartly.

Dick frowned. "Well, yes, thank you for noticing. But I was _going to say_ that I'm friends with some of the performers and they got me tickets."

"This is going to be so cool," Tim nearly squealed.

"Just so long as we have plenty of time for drinking," Jason insisted.

"Don't worry, Jason; we're going to the early evening show. You'll have all night to drink."

"You do have Bruce's Platinum Amex, right, Dickie-bird?"

Dick grinned. "Of course! Never leave home without it."

"Good. Because I fully intend on running up a bar tab that will give even the likes of ol' Brucie a heart attack."

* * *

"Rise and shine, you filthy swine."

Tim groaned and refused to open his eyes. He felt like he had been run over by a truck – no, two trucks (at least).

"You're pathetic, Drake," the voice sneered. Tim slowly, slooooowly opened one eye and found Damian staring straight into his face. "The least you can do when you overindulge in alcohol is learn to hold your liquor." Tim looked towards the floor and saw a pile of vomit. His vomit. Ewww.

"Uggh." Tim pried open his other eye and started to sit up. Make that three trucks.

"Here, take these." Jason suddenly appeared at his side with a tall glass of water and some pills. Tim gratefully swallowed the aspirin and flopped back down on the couch.

"Why are you so chipper?"

"Me?" Jason laughed. "I can drink like a pro. Trust me, if you can drink Harper under the table, you can do anything."

"Remind me never to go out with Roy. Ever."

Jason just laughed. "You'll feel better if you eat something." He glanced about the suite. "I'd recommend toast, but since we're fresh out of that…" He darted off and returned moments later with a bag. "Have some pretzels."

Tim took the bag and tentatively munched on a few, all while keeping his eyes closed. He felt better with his eyes closed.

After a few minutes of silence, Damian cleared his throat. "I'm glad you two cretins had a good time last night, but where is Grayson?"

"What do you mean "where is Grayson?" Isn't he in the bathroom?" Jason nodded his head backward, indicating the community bathroom on the far side of the living room.

"That door has been closed for over five hours," Damian declared. "What's he doing in there?"

"Primping?" Jason suggested.

"Tt."

Jason sighed. "Fine. I'll go check on him."

Jason ambled over to the bathroom and opened the door. "Ahhhh!"

Tim's eyes flew open. "What's wrong?"

"There's a bunch of big-ass bats in there!"

"Bats?"

"Yeah, you know, flying rodents of the night."

"We're all familiar with bats," Tim said tiredly.

"Yeah, well there must be a dozen huge bats in there. Wingspans of a couple feet!"

"Tt."

"I'll show you." Jason opened the bathroom door again and one large bat came flying out. It had a wingspan of three or four feet. Definitely not a species native to the United States.

"How did that get in here?" Tim wondered aloud while Jason browbeat the monster bat back into the bathroom.

"And, more importantly, where's Grayson?" Damian demanded.

Jason slammed the bathroom door shut. "Not in there, I can tell you that."

"Then where is he?" Damian insisted. No way was he being left alone with Drake and Todd.

"Did he come home with us last night?" Jason asked.

"How should I know?" Damian sneered. "I was asleep."

Jason shrugged. "Well, I don't remember. Tim?"

Tim paused, thinking carefully. Suddenly his eyes widened in terror. "I don't remember either. In fact, I don't remember anything."

"Idiot," Damian hissed.

Tim glared at him. "Well, I remember leaving Cirque de Soleil, eating dinner, and bringing Damian back to the room. And then…. I just remember waking up this morning."

"This afternoon," Damian snidely corrected.

Jason nodded. "Me, too, actually." Then he shrugged. "I guess we're working blind."

"And that doesn't bother you?" Tim shrieked.

"He's probably in the room. Come on, let's look."

When a thorough search of the room failed to turn up any trace of Dick, even Jason started to get worried. Their brother's unexplained absence and the massive bats in the bathroom indicated that some serious shit had gone down last night. But what?

Reassembling in the suite's living room, the trio was greeted to the melodious tones of "I'm Too Sexy" on a cell phone.

"It's Dick's!" Tim shouted, elated. "He's here!"

"Tt. The sound is coming from your pocket, Drake."

"Oh." Tim reached into his pants pocket and pulled out Dick's iPhone. "It's Bruce!" Tim looked panicked.

"Give it here," Jason sighed. "Hey, Bruce. What's up? Oh we had a good time last night. The others really enjoyed Cirque de Soleil. Hmmm?"

A pause on Jason's end.

"Where's Dick? Oh, he's taking a shower and I didn't want to leave you hanging."

"When are we leaving tomorrow? Not sure. I'll have Dick call you back when he knows."

"No, everything's fine. Yeah, yeah. I'll have Dick call you back. But don't wait up – you know how long he takes in the shower."

"Yes, Dick will call you back." Jason sighed. "Goodbye, _Bruce_." He hung up.

"We are dead. Bruce is already suspicious because Dick failed to check in at regular intervals last night."

"Check in!" Tim gasped.

I know." Jason shook his head at Dick's willingness to indulge Bruce's neuroses. "But look on the bright side: we know Dick was okay until midnight."

"Midnight! It's already 4 PM." Damian announced.

Jason glanced at a clock for the first time. "Okay, so maybe not so bright."

"Well, we've got to find Dick." Tim got up off the couch, willing his hangover away. There was work to be done!

Damian crossed his arms. "I'm not helping. You two lost him; you two can find him."

Jason's eyes narrowed. "Listen, you little shit, I don't think you understand the gravity of the situation. Bruce will go ballistic if he finds out anything happened to Dick."

"But I'm his son," Damian scoffed.

"So is Dick. So are all of us." Jason replied. "But no one messes with Daddy's firstborn and expects to get out unscathed."

"Fine. I will work with you two imbeciles just this once."

"Maybe we should start with those bats," Tim suggested. "You think they came from the zoo?"

* * *

**So Dick is the missing "Wolf Pack" member because DeathwishJV requested some Tim-Jason-Damian bonding. I hope this can live up to your expectations, JV. And someday, I promise, the boys will do something outside!**

**If anyone has any drunken antics they would like to share (well, things that happened to your friends because I'm sure none of you ever over-imbibe), send me a message or post in the comments. I'm all ears!**


	12. Las Vegas 2

**Thank you for all the reviews! Now that I have over one hundred, I have decided I need to be a better person. Consequently, I will be replying to every review from this point forward. It's the least I can do, as a way to thank you for taking the time to review my stuff. If you are a guest, I will give you a little shout-out in the next chapter. I'm also going to try to review stories written by my reviewers, so let me know if there's one you especially want some reviews on.**

**Thanks again for reading! I appreciate it so much!**

* * *

"If you two idiots stole bats from the zoo, I will personally call the police!" Damian shouted.

"What!" Tim shrieked.

"You wouldn't do that. Bruce would be angry anyway," Jason challenged.

"Father would recover. Besides, you've been in jail before Todd."

"Not for something stupid like 'stealing' bats. For -."

"Murder?" Tim suggested with a smirk.

"I was _going _to say 'something more serious,' but whatever."

Damian crossed his arms. "I'm still going to report you," he said haughtily.

"Dick would be sad if you did that," Jason prompted, glancing at Tim.

Tim picked up on the cue. "Yeah, Damian, he would be. He'd pout and make puppy-dog eyes and beg you to bail us out."

Damian glowered. "Maybe I won't report you right away."

"That's the spirit, Hell Spawn!" Jason slapped Damian on the back.

"Hands off me, Todd!" he snarled.

With an amused smile, Jason turned to Tim. "Are we even sure we stole these bats?"

Tim looked confused. Clearly, the hangover was fogging his brain.

"Check the internet on your phone," Jason prompted. "If those bats were stolen, there'll be a story in the paper."

"Right, yes." Tim sat down on the couch and brought up his browser. Computer stuff he could do, although he noticed things were a bit more difficult to read with a hangover.

Jason and Damian, meanwhile, were searching the suite for a crate for the giant bats.

"Hey, I got it!" Tim shouted a few minutes later.

"Are you two morons felons?"

Tim beamed. "Nope. I have a text here from the Las Vegas Bat Sanctuary, confirming out rental of ten Flying Foxes."

Jason's mouth dropped open. "We _rented_ those damn things?"

Tim shrugged. "I guess so."

"Tt. Idiots."

"Well, GPS our way to this sanctuary and then help us round up these bats," Jason ordered.

"Todd, you miserable cretin, exactly what are we going to put these beasts in?" Apparently the bats' crate was still missing in action.

"We're not putting them in anything." Jason tossed Damian a roll of twine, made from some high-tech textile. "Catch."

"What are we going to do with this?" Damian asked cautiously.

"Observe." And with that, Jason opened the bathroom door, reached one arm in, and pulled out a single giant bat. Jason quickly tied a bit of twine around the bat's neck. "Ta da!"

"A leash?" Damian was aghast.

"A bat balloon," Jason corrected. "For Timmy's birthday."

"Wow, Jason, that's really cool!" Tim exclaimed, coming over to grab the first bat balloon from Jason.

Damian's face sunk into his hand. "I'm surrounded by idiots."

* * *

Fifteen minutes later, the three were in front of the casino, holding their bat balloons, and waiting for the valet to return with their car.

When the valet reappeared, he was driving a hot-pink convertible, which looked like a human-sized version of Barbie's car. Catching sight of three men/boys with ten bats on leashes, he sighed and shook his head. "What happens in Vegas, stays in Vegas," he muttered under his breath as he pocketed the tip Tim offered him and hurried away.

Damian glared at the car, almost as though he had Clark's heat vision and could incinerate the offending vehicle with a glance. "Tt. Didn't Dick rent a black Bentley?"

"Look on the bright side," Jason offered, "we won't have to share the car with the bats."

Jason drove, while Tim and Damian each had to keep five bats from escaping.

"Jason, slow down!" Tim shouted. "The bats can't keep up. You're driving too fast!"

"Tell those bats to 'deal with it,'" Jason shouted from the front seat over the roar of the engine. "Malibu Barbie's ride has some oomph!"

"Ahhh," Tim shouted as several exhausted bats dropped from the sky and fell on top of him. Damian would have mocked him ceaselessly had the younger boy not also been covered in exhausted Flying Foxes.

One harried car ride later, the trio arrived at the Las Vegas Bat Sanctuary. The bats immediately perked up when the car stopped, and began flying about tugging on their leashes.

"There you are!" called a friendly voice. The boys turned to see a blond man approaching them. "I was beginning to think you boys had decided to keep 'em."

"No way," Tim muttered, wiping away various bat effluvia.

"I take it you misplaced the crate?" the bat man asked.

"Yeah, sorry about that," Jason replied. "We'll pay for it."

"Oh, nah," the man waved his arm in a don't-worry-about-it gesture. "It was just an old crate." He paused, then grinned. "But I'll tell you what: you can make it up to me by letting me take your picture with my bats. I've never seen 'em on leashes before!" The bat man gave a hearty laugh.

Damian glared daggers at Jason and Tim, but all three dutifully stood together, holding their bat balloons for the picture.

"Thanks! Now let's get these guys back in their cages!"

Once the giant bats were back in their large cages, the man turned to the trio. "So, how was the wedding?"

Damian's eyes widened in shock, Tim gulped, and Jason's mouth dropped open.

"Wedding?" Tim croaked.

The bat man laughed. "Sure, you guys told me a buddy of yours was getting married tomorrow and you wanted to surprise him with bats. I wasn't sure the Temple of Love allowed animals indoors, but said you would take care of everything."

No sooner had the words "Temple of Love" crossed the man's lips when Tim whipped out his iPhone, looked up the address of the chapel, and started GPSing a route there.

"Oh yeah," Jason bluffed. "It was fine. I mean, they weren't too happy about the bats but we got our way."

The bat man smiled. "Good to hear. Bats are such lovely creatures. I really wish more people could appreciate them like you boys do."

"Yeah." Jason nervously rubbed the back of his neck.

"Tt."

Tim then looked up from his phone. He had the directions. "Well, thank you, sir." He stuck his hand out to shake.

"My pleasure." The bat man shook hands with Tim, smiled at the other two, and went back to his sanctuary. The trio dashed for the car. Once inside, they all looked at each other, horror-stricken, and voiced the same concern.

"Oh my God, did Dick get married?"

* * *

Jason lost count of how many laws he broke on his way to the Temple of Love. If only they could reach Dick before he got hitched. If only, if only.

Jason pulled into the parking lot at the Temple of Love and skidded to a stop. All three boys jumped out of the car, not even bothering to open their doors, and raced inside. In the nauseatingly-pink lobby, they were greeted by two tall, slender blondes.

"There you are!" chirped the slightly-taller of the two. "You missed your friend's wedding, but we were hoping you'd still show up."

Tim gulped. "We… missed… the … wedding?"

"Oh, sure," the shorter replied flippantly. "It was over at least an hour ago."

Blonde number one turned to grin at Jason, then walked up to him and put her arm around his shoulders. "But you weren't interested in the wedding, were you, Jason?"

"Tt." Damian crossed his arms and frowned. Todd would get involved with some tramp.

"Yeah," cooed blonde number two, wrapping herself around Tim. "You're here for us, right Tim?"

"Tt." Drake too would be dumb enough to get involved with a harlot.

Jason grinned. "Well, uh -."

"Charity." The blonde supplied. Jerking her head in the direction of Tim and the other blonde, she added, "And she's Gretchen."

"Well, Charity, just how did we meet?"

She giggled. "I work here, silly. And you and Tim came in last night with your friend to help him set up his wedding."

"You helped him!" Damian spluttered, furious with Todd and Drake. How could they allow Grayson to marry someone without his approval?

"Is that so?" Jason murmured, somewhat seductively.

"Ohh, yes. But you two stayed later to visit with us."

Jason raised his eyebrows and gave a predatory grin. "Well, I sure hope I went to bed with you." She was, after all, pretty damn hot.

Charity just giggled and nipped at his ear. "You know the answer to that."

Somewhat horrified, Tim turned to Gretchen. "Did we, uh, did we have sex last night?"

"Tim!" Gretchen shrieked. "I'm a lady!"

"So does that mean 'no, we didn't have sex' or 'no, we're not going to talk about it'?"

"TIM!"

Tim dropped his eyes to the ground. "I'll take that as a 'no' to both questions."

Gretchen frowned and crossed her arms. Honestly, Tim had been much more fun last night. At least Jason still seemed nice. _Stupid Charity, she always gets the good ones_.

"So help me out here, Charity," Jason said, giving her a killer smile. "Describe our friend from last night."

"Okay, sure." Charity paused to think for a moment. "Umm, dark hair."

"Not overly tall," Gretchen added.

"Yeah, kinda tacky clothes."

Jason and Tim shared a look. That sounded like Dick.

"Anything else?" Tim asked in a choked voice.

"Ummm," Charity was blanking.

"Oh, I know!" Gretchen exclaimed. "He was Asian!"

"Asian?" Jason, Tim, and Damian echoed.

"Yeah, I think so," Gretchen was losing her confidence.

Jason sighed and pulled Dick's iPhone out of his pocket. Quickly scrolling through the photos, he brought up a headshot of Dick. Holding the phone out to Charity he asked, "Is this our friend?"

Charity's eyes widened and she took the phone reverently from Jason's outstretched hand.

"Oh, wow," she breathed. "Gretch come look at this guy."

Gretchen was at Charity's side in an instant. "Damn," she whistled.

Jason rolled his eyes. "Was that our friend?"

"Definitely not," the two blondes replied, without even looking up from the screen.

"Are you sure?"

"Honey, I wouldn't forget a man like this," Charity announced with conviction. "He's gorgeous."

"Agreed. Who is he?" Gretchen asked.

"Our brother," Tim answered before Jason could reply.

"Your brother! Damn he's fine."

"I know," Gretchen breathed. "I wish he'd been here."

Jason frowned. Dick was cock-blocking him and Tim without even being there.

Charity dragged her finger across the phone, moving to a different picture. It turned out to be a full-body shot of Dick – taken from behind.

Both women's mouths dropped open. "Look at that ass!" Charity squealed. "Are you sure he's your brother and not a god?"

Jason dropped his face into his hand. "I'm sure," he muttered, not that either woman was listening.

"My God, his ass is so tight you could bounce a quarter off it!"

"Gretch, girl, his glutes are so taut you could bounce a dollar bill off 'em!"

"Okay!" Jason announced, snatching the phone away. "What can you tell us about our friend from last night?"

For a moment the women looked longingly at Jason's pocket, which contained pictures of their Adonis, before responding.

"I think he works at the Chinese restaurant down the street. Forbidden City?" Charity suggested.

Gretchen shook her head. "No, the other one. Great Wall."

"Yeah, that's it. Anyway, we see him around all the time. He drives this heinous pink convertible."

Gretchen laughed. "For real. That thing is so ugly even I wouldn't drive it!"

_Well that explains the car_, Tim thought.

So where can we find this guy?" he asked aloud.

"Oh, that's easy. Down at Great Wall."

"Yeah, his employers are throwing him a reception at the restaurant," Gretchen added.

"Then let's go!" Damian ordered, overjoyed to be able to leave this place, coated in pink as far as the eye could see.

"Yeah, let's," Tim agreed, already starting to leave.

"Well, thanks ladies," Jason added as he made his way to the exit.

"Anytime. Oh, and Jason?"

"Yes?"

Charity smiled. "Next time you visit, bring your brother!"

Jason slammed the door in her face. Unfortunately, he could still hear her and Gretchen giggling.

* * *

**I'm going to try to wrap this bit up in the next chapter. I've gotten requests for camping/outdoors, Olympics, and a return to Disney. Any other suggestions?**

**What's the deal with Image Manager? Does it mean I can upload a picture to accompany my story?**


	13. Las Vegas 3

**Thank you to everyone who reviewed. If you weren't a guest, I think I responded. If not, my apologies (and let me know, so I can fix it). I will continue to send personal thank-yous for the rest of this story!**

**Since I could not send you a message, big thank-yous to: Guest (several, I think), JustVisiting, BmS, and Donna.**

**I can't say I'm loving this chapter, but you deserved an update!**

* * *

Jason drove down the street to the Great Wall as fast as humanly possible.

Double-parking behind several guests, the three dashed inside. A large sign, congratulating the bridal couple of Michael and Rose, greeted them.

"At least we know his name now," Tim commented

"Like that solves anything," Damian sneered.

Before Tim could retort, a cheerful voice called out, "Jason! Tim! So glad you could make it."

A man who was obviously the groom walked up to them. "Thought you guys might have forgotten about the party."

"Oh no." Jason laughed nervously. "But we can't stay. Our brother is missing."

"Aww, that sucks. Just a sec. My wife wanted to thank you for letting us borrow your car. Nice ride."

"No problem."

Rose appeared next to Michael and effusively thanked Jason and Tim. Then she saw Damian.

"Oh, who is this little guy? Hello, handsome!"

Damian had a murderous look in his eye. Jason quickly shoved him towards Tim, and then pushed the two of them towards the door.

"He's shy," Jason explained.

"Are you sure you can't stay?" Michael persisted. "After letting us borrow the car, I feel like I at least owe you some free food."

Jason waved away Michael's comment. "It was nothing." Which was true – the car was rented in Bruce's name.

Michael handed the keys back to Jason. "If you're ever in Vegas again…."

"Sure thing." Although Jason wasn't entirely sure he ever wanted to set foot in Vegas again.

In the parking lot, the rental car, unfortunately, had already been decorated. With a groan, Jason whipped out his pocket knife and cut off the cans trailing on strings from the bumper.

"Replacement, can you wipe the 'Just Married' off the back windshield? I'd like to be able to see when I drive?"

"Umm, with what?" Tim looked around in vain for a piece of free cloth.

"Tt. Just use that atrocious t-shirt you have on."

Tim glanced down. "What's wrong with Green Day?"

"Really, dude? They're so '90s."

Tim sighed. "Fine." He took off his old shirt and started to rub off the paint. As he was swabbing the windshield, Jason stood up next to him.

"Aww, aren't they cute?" commented a passerby on the street to her companion.

Her friend glanced over. "I didn't know gays could get married in Vegas."

Damian snorted.

Tim and Jason looked at each horrified.

"Let's just pretend we didn't hear that," Tim stammered.

"Put your shirt on," Jason insisted.

"But the windshield -."

"It's fine."

"Right." Tim quickly pulled his dirty shirt on, then dashed towards the passenger door.

Jason, acting casual, went to the driver's seat.

Damian, still snorting over his brothers' embarrassment, wrenched open the back door, and -.

Was met with a deluge of wedding-bell shaped confetti and glitter.

"Ahhh," Damian growled as he slid into the backseat, attempting to ignore his brothers' laughter. "I'm never getting married."

"Yeah, because your fear of a booby-trapped car is the _only_ reason you won't get married," Tim chuckled.

"Heh, heh, booby," Jason murmured, in a Beavis-and-Butthead moment.

Damian shook his head, glitter and confetti falling everywhere. "Just drive, Todd."

"Where to?"

"Anywhere but here," Damian snapped.

Tim shrugged helplessly, so Jason just threw the car into drive and took off down the street.

* * *

Minutes later.

"We're low on gas."

"Well, you have Bruce's credit card, right?" Tim asked.

"Yeah, I totally snatched it from Dick last night."

Jason pulled into a car station. "Okay, I'm going to pump the gas. Tim is going to search the car for clues, and Damian, you're going to clean the car windows."

"I will not, Todd."

"You will or I'm taking a photo of Mr. Glitter Face with Golden Boy's phone. You know Dickie-bird would love to see you in all your sparkly glory."

"Fine." Damian slid out of the car.

"You are going to take a picture anyway, right?" Tim confirmed.

"Of course. But with my phone."

Once the windows were clean and the car full of gas, Jason turned to Tim. "Any clues?"

"Just this." Tim held up a receipt. "It's for a novelty store at the Vegas Mall."

"Better than nothing."

Jason had been driving all of two minutes when Dick's iPhone rang. "Damn it." He knew it was Bruce. It had to be.

"Hey, Bruce."

"Oh nothing. We're at the mall."

"Dick and Damian are in a store."

"Yes, I promise."

"What? Okay."

Jason held the phone out to Tim. "He wants to talk to you."

"Okay." Tim accepted the phone. "Bruce, hey."

"Oh yeah, my birthday's been great. What? Yeah, will do. Promise."

He handed the phone back to Jason.

"Yeah? You got it. Oop, gotta go." Jason quickly hung up the phone and tossed it at Damian. "Keep track of that, Devil Spawn."

"Tt."

"So… what did Bruce want?"

Tim laughed nervously. "He told me not to let Dick buy any clothes that screamed 'Vegas' or 'circus.'"

"So not to let Dick buy anything?"

"Pretty much. What did Bruce say to you?"

"Not to let you buy any more video games."

"What! But it's my birthday."

"Yeah, and you have a pile of unplayed video games back home."

"Well, Dick has a pile of terrible clothes at home."

"Exactly why he can't have more," Jason reasoned.

Tim gulped and glanced at the receipt in his hand. "You don't think… Dick is shopping, do you?"

Jason snorted. "If he is, you're taking the fall."

* * *

An hour later, the three had scoured the mall and there was still no sign of Dick. Jason and Damian, however, had purchased several new (and very sharp) knives, so the time hadn't been a total loss.

"All right, let's put these babies in the trunk," Jason said, casually pressing the "open trunk" button.

The trunk clicked open.

"Ahhh!" Tim shouted, hands flying up to cover his face as fabric snakes sprung from the trunk.

"What the hell?" Jason demanded, smacking a few snakes that were lingering in the air out of the way.

Stepping around the corpses of the fakes snakes, the three guys cautiously leaned over to look into the trunk. Inside sat a rather sorry-looking cake with "Happy Birthday, Timmy!" written in bright red letters. Next to it sat a gift bag.

"That cakes looks disgusting," Jason spat.

Tim frowned. "I bet it would have been good last night!" he defended.

"Drake, are you going to open your present?"

Tim gingerly reached for the package, hoping no snakes would jump out. "I guess."

Inside were a pile of chips from the casino, with a note that said "Have some fun, little brother. Love, Dick."

"What a sentimental fool," Damian sneered, with the slightest touch of jealousy in his voice.

"Damn! There must be a thousand dollars in chips here!" Jason cried excitedly. "We need to get back to the casino!"

Tim paused, running his hands through the chips. "You're right, Jason – we do need to get back to the casino. Dick is there!"

"He is?"

"Of course, he wouldn't have left a cake in the car and a bag of chips as a present if we were going someplace else. We were never supposed to leave the casino. And no one else has seen him. He has to still be at the hotel!"

* * *

Back in the suite, Tim and Jason sat there, wracking their brains trying to figure out Dick's whereabouts. Finally, Jason announced, "I'm having a drink."

"A drink!? Dick's still missing!"

"I know. And if I get a little tipsy, maybe I can remember what happened. You know, go back to my state last night and see if it rings any bells."

"Hmmm, good thought. Maybe I should -."

"Oh, no, Drake. You stay sober. You can't hold your liquor for anything."

Feeling vaguely insulted, Tim sat on the couch, bored and moping, while Jason chugged beer after beer. Damian played with his knives.

"So Dick was the Bat, right?" Jason asked after a while.

"Yes, why?"

"Bats fly."

"And?"

"I think we took him to the roof to see if he could fly."

"Tt. That is the dumbest thing I have ever heard."

"To see if he could fly?" Tim gasped. "Come on. Dick might be injured!"

* * *

And there on the roof was Dick, stuffed inside the bats' crate. Unfortunately for Dick, the crate had mesh sides and the searing Vegas sunlight had been pouring down on him for hours.

Inside the crate, Dick was not moving.

"Oh my god," Tim gasped in a worried, hushed voice. "Is he dead?" He almost looked like he would cry. How would he survive life with Damian and Jason if he didn't have Dick by his side?

"No, you idiot," Damian scoffed, "he's just passed out."

"How do you know, demon spawn?" Jason scoffed.

"Tt." And without any warning, Damian dashed up to the crate, ripped open one side, and crawled in.

"Damian!" Tim squawked. "What are you _doing_?" The kid looked like he was about to molest their brother.

There was no response except for the faint sound of an aerosol can spraying someone.

A moment later, Dick coughed and groaned. "Where am I?" he whined.

"Oh, Dick, you're okay!" Tim nearly squealed, running over to the crate and helping Damian pull their older brother out.

Dick hissed as his brothers touched him. At first he thought it was because he was sore (he may have been an acrobat, but over twelve hours stuffed inside a crate would make anyone stiff), but….

Jason whistled. "I guess even gypsies can get sunburned."

"They're called Roma, Todd," Damian snapped, as he gave Dick the once over. "Grayson, you need some aloe – and fast."

Dick laughed and attempted to ruffle Damian's hair. "Thanks for the diagnosis, Dr. Little D."

* * *

A couple of hours later, the boys were back on the Wayne jet and headed for home. As Dick liberally slathered Noxzema cream on his sunburned skin, he cautiously asked, "So anyone know why I was on the roof?"

Damian snorted. "Those imbeciles," he gestured at Tim and Jason, "must have taken you up there. _I_ was asleep."

"Guys?" Dick looked at his other two brothers.

Jason sighed. "Yeah, we did it, but don't ask why. Just for funsies, I guess."

"You guess?"

"We kinda don't remember," Tim admitted.

"Hmmm." There was a pause as Dick grabbed another jar of cream. "And the crate?"

"It had giant bats in it. I'm guessing we put you in there for a joke, Batman."

Tim nodded. "I agree with Jason. Sounds like something we might do when drunk."

This time, Dick whistled. "You got so drunk you don't remember anything? How are you not dead from alcohol poisoning?"

"Practice," Jason muttered.

"Luck?" Tim suggested.

"Are you guys sure you weren't drugged? I mean, this kind of sounds like the after-effects of roofies."

"But how -?"

Tim was cut off by Jason smashing his fist on his armrest. "Damn it, I knew I shouldn't have let you come along!" He glared at Damian, who smirked back.

"What? Where?" Tim asked.

Damian rolled his eyes. "Some shady back alley near the hotel. He wanted some ecstasy for you guys."

"Except the guy was fresh out. So demon spawn over here bought something else. Said it would be 'just as good.'"

"So you roofied us?" Tim shouted, utterly irate (although he wasn't sure if he was madder at Jason for initiating the problem or Daman for making it worse).

"You took Damian to a drug deal?" Dick gasped, utterly shocked.

Jason shrugged. "It was your twenty-first birthday, Tim, and the demon-spawn wouldn't leave me alone."

"Not to worry, Grayson, I was not harmed during this transaction."

"Wish I could say the same," Jason quipped.

"But drugs are bad. You know that, right, Damian?"

"Tt. Of course, anything Todd likes is bad. Besides, why do you think I bought roofies?"

"Well, so long as you weren't corrupted -." Dick paused while he rubbed a particularly hard-to-reach spot. A part of him admired Damian's ingenuity, although that had been very dangerous. "And Jason, I hope you learned a lesson."

"Don't trust Damian?"

"Don't do drugs."

"Yeah, yeah. Look it's not a habit. If it were, I'd have known I was getting hoodwinked." He glared again at Damian.

Tim gasped. "Dick, you aren't mad Damian roofied us?"

Dick smiled. "Oh, Timmy. Dami was just trying to teach Jason a lesson. But I am sorry you got caught in the cross hairs."

"Me too," Tim growled. Seriously, why did Dick have to be so damn forgiving?

Eager to change the subject, Jason cut in. "Yeah, but that still doesn't explain why Dick was passed out for over twelve hours on the roof. He wasn't roofied."

"Well, I was but in a different way." Dick grinned but his brothers just rolled their eyes. "Geez, tough crowd," he muttered to himself.

"Damian had something to do with it," Tim announced.

"Now, Tim -."

"No, I mean it. He sprayed something in your face, Dick!"

"I did not! You lie, Drake."

"Yes, you did. I heard you."

"Yeah, I heard it, too," Jason piped up. "What'd you do, kid?"

Damian just glared at his feet.

"Oh, Little D, you can tell us. I won't be mad."

"That makes one of us," Jason muttered.

Damian sat in silence a few more moments before he sighed. "Fine. I sprayed you with Bat-Awake."

"Huh?"

"Why?"

"For real?"

"You brought me up to the room because it was my '_bed time,_'" Damian managed to inject the word with more disgust than anyone had ever thought possible. "But I didn't want to sleep, and I certainly didn't want you getting drunk with those idiots. They would have taken advantage of you."

"What? We would not!" Jason and Tim felt insulted.

"Aww, Dami, that's so sweet." Dick reached out for a hug, felt a sting in his sunburned skin, and thought better of it. "But how did I -."

"I tried to get you to stay with me, and I might have accidentally sprayed you with knock-out gas." Everyone looked at Damian and the unasked question hung in the air. "And I went a little overboard, gave you enough to last for hours, and knocked myself out, too. When I came to, you were gone, and the others were back."

"Serves you right, you little twerp," Tim murmured to himself, while Jason quietly cussed Damian out.

Dick just laughed. "That is hilarious! Roy and Wally are going to love this story!"

"Hey, hey, hey!" Jason insisted. "What happens in Vegas stays in Vegas." He really didn't want Bruce finding out about that drug deal.

Dick just laughed harder. "Okay, fine Jason. Whatever you say."

Half an hour later, after Dick had fallen asleep (apparently, sunburns really wore the guy out) and Damian was in the toilet, Jason leaned over to Tim. "We're going to make Damian pay. Follow my lead when we get back."

Tim smirked. "You got it."

* * *

Jason drove back to the Manor since Dick's arms hurt. The four had barely gotten in the door and greeted Alfred when Bruce walked into the foyer.

He already looked pissed. "How was -." His scowl deepened. "Dick, what happened to you?"

"Bingo." Jason smirked and nudged Tim.

Dick waved his hand in the air like it wasn't a big deal. "Oh you know. A little sunburn. Nothing major."

"Nothing major! Dick I've never seen you so red. What. Happened."

"Ummm," Dick didn't know what to say without breaking the "What-happens-in-Vegas" agreement.

"He fell asleep by the pool," Jason cut in smoothly. "Demon over here," he jerked his thumb at Damian, "was supposed to be watching him while Replacement and I got our drink on. But, you know, kids these days."

Bruce glared daggers at Damian. "And what was so distracting, Damian?"

Damian had no idea what to say. Was this seriously happening? He was the young one here – why was he getting in trouble?

"A girl," Tim supplied. "He was flirting. Some blonde, big breasts. You know the type."

Dick snorted, trying to hold back his laughter. Oh yeah, Bruce knew the type.

"Damian, is this true?"

"Father, I -."

"Family first, Damian. Dick could get skin cancer because of your negligence."

Dick's mouth dropped. "Bruce, really."

Bruce turned to Dick and pointed. "You. Batcave. Now."

"What?"

"I have medical supplies down there."

"I already -."

"Go. Hurry up. You're lucky you don't need skin grafts."

"Geez, Bruce, overreact much."

"Richard."

"Okay, okay, I'm going. Sheesh." And Dick disappeared.

"And you." Bruce turned to Damian. "Are grounded. Indefinitely. No Robin, no TV, no computer, no anything."

"But -."

"Go to your room."

Damian stalked off without another word.

Bruce glanced, almost apologetically, at Jason and Tim. "I hope you two had fun. But I really need to tend to Dick."

Jason waved Bruce away. "Sure, no problem. We had a great time, by the way."

Tim nodded enthusiastically. "Yeah, great time. Thanks for the jet."

"Anytime." Bruce paused. "Maybe not anytime, but -."

"We get it," Jason interrupted. "Go." And Bruce was gone.

Tim turned to Jason and grinned. "I have to hand it to you, that was awesome watching Damian get grounded. I shall treasure that memory forever."

Jason smirked and put his arm around Tim's shoulders. "Happy twenty-first birthday, kid. Let's see if Alfred has any beer in the fridge.

* * *

**Thanks for reading! Camping trip is coming up next!**

**And thanks for the suggestions, everyone! **


	14. Camping

**Thank you to everyone who has read and reviewed. I really appreciate it!**

**My apologies that this update took so long. It's a long one, and somewhat episodic, but I hope you like it.  
**

**I finally threw Cass and Steph in. They won't always appear, because I don't know their characters very well, but I'll try to work them in sometimes.  
**

**Thanks for reading!  
**

* * *

"Grayson, what's camping?" Damian and Dick were sitting in the kitchen eating some of Alfred's delicious and freshly-made cookies. Dick had just picked his brother up from his friend Colin's "house."

"Well, Little D, camping is when a group of people take a tent and sleeping bags and other items and go sleep in the woods."

"Tt. Sounds ridiculous."

"Is Colin going camping?"

"Yes, he said the entire orphanage is going next weekend."

Dick watched as Damian dunked part of his cookie in his milk. The boy was trying to act completely nonchalant about camping, but Dick could tell he was interested.

"You want to go camping, Damian?"

"Tt. It is beneath me to request such puerile amusements."

Dick grinned. "But is it beneath you to engage in such puerile amusements?"

"I suppose not." And Damian stalked out of the kitchen, feeling exposed.

Dick leaned back in his chair and smiled. "Well, Alfie, it looks like we're going camping."

* * *

"Hello?"

"Hi Roy, it's me, Dick."

"Short Pants, what can I do ya for?"

"I need some advice a-."

"From me?" Roy almost choked.

"About camping," Dick finished, ignoring Roy's outburst. "You and Lian go a lot, so I figured you could help me make a list of necessary supplies."

"O-kaaaaay." Roy was a bit mystified. Dick had been camping before with the Titans. Why did he need to make a list of supplies? What was so special about this trip?

"All right. I have tent, sleeping bags, cookware, food -."

"Who's going on this trip?"

"What?"

"I asked: who's going?"

"Oh. Um, well, me, Damian, Alfred, Tim, Jason, and Bruce. Maybe Cass and Steph if they're around."

It was all clear in Roy's mind now. Bruce was going camping. No wonder Dick needed everything to be perfect. The playboy billionaire did not DO the woods. Not since that one time….

"So if I have six to eight people, should I get one huge tent or two large ones?" When Roy didn't immediately respond, Dick continued rambling on. "Maybe two tents, in case I need to separate Tim and Damian. Or Jason and Bruce. Or Damian and Steph. Or Tim and Steph if they start kissing. Maybe I need three tents…."

"Hey, Dick, how about this? Have you heard of Oaken Falls?"

"Sure, it's a state park not quite two hours from Gotham. Why?"

"Well, they have a cabin that sleeps up to eight people, and it's available next weekend. It has beds and everything. Just drive your car up and hop out. No trip to the camping store required."

"But… isn't that cheating?"

"Dude, you're taking Bruce with you. Bruce Wayne. You really think he's going to be able to handle sleeping on the ground and not showering?"

Dick considered that for a moment. "He would if I asked nicely. He did that one time."

"And how well did _that_ turn out?"

"Admittedly it could have been better, but -."

"What about Alfred? You want him to sleep on the ground?"

That was pretty unfair to the man. Alfred would do it without complaint, but still. "Okay, fine. A cabin it is."

"Good choice, buddy. I'm e-mailing you the link now."

* * *

Bruce wanted to kill everyone in the car and the camping weekend hadn't even officially begun yet. They were still an hour away from the state park, but Dick was already getting everyone into the spirit of things. With singing. _Singing_. Bruce shuddered.

Bruce supposed he should blame Alfred. When Damian had started arguing with Tim (and Steph, and Cass, and everyone but Dick), Alfred had suggested a song. Dick and Steph had quickly agreed and gotten everyone (even Cass and Jason) to sing a rousing rendition of "O Clementine," which was quickly followed by an even more rousing rendition of "There's a Hole in My Bucket." And now Bruce's ears were being assaulted with "99 Bottles of Beer on the Wall" (well, technically Dick had modified it to "99 Bottles of Zesti on the Wall," much to Jason's chagrin). And from the looks of things, the kids were going to make it all the way from ninety-nine to one. Alfred, the traitor, even had a wisp of a smile on his face and was quietly humming along. Bruce could tell it was going to be a long weekend.

* * *

Bruce perked up considerably when the limo finally reached the cabin's driveway. Stepping out of the car he took a good look at the exterior. Log-cabin style, but the construction was modern and solid. There shouldn't be any drafts. The cabin also had a front porch with a swing (how quaint), a back patio area with a fire pit, and an outside shower-head for rinsing off after swimming in the nearby lake. Finally, and most importantly, the cabin had cable and internet lines protruding from the back. Bruce took a deep breath and silently thanked the higher power for gracing the world with high-speed internet. He could do this. He could go camping.

The kids were already running inside the front door.

"Whoa! That TV is huge!" Steph gasped, loud enough to be heard outside.

"Eh, it's pretty big for a cabin," Jason retorted.

"Oh, well excuse me," Steph shot back. "Some of us aren't billionaires with TVs the size of third-world countries at home."

"Geez, Steph, don't exaggerate. Our TV is maybe the size of Vatican City – and it's the smallest country in the world," Tim casually added.

"TIMMY!" Steph growled, displeased that her sort-of boyfriend was mocking her.

The sounds of a scuffle and several "ows!" were overheard outside.

"Guuuuys," Dick interrupted, sounding a tad whinier than a twenty-something probably should, "no fighting. It's family time."

"You're no fun Dickie-bird," Jason deadpanned. After a moment's pause, he added, "Hey! Let's go check out the bedrooms."

Outside, Bruce paled, then immediately raced towards the cabin. There was no way the kids were picking out beds without him.

* * *

Half an hour later, the limo was unloaded. Now that all the stuff was inside, it was time to decide on the sleeping arrangements.

"I'm not sharing a bed with anyone," Bruce stated.

"Aww, Bruce, you can't!" Dick protested. "Then one person will have to sleep on the floor."

"Since that person won't be me, I don't care."

"Master Bruce," Alfred interrupted, in a tone that dripped disappointment. "You are setting an exceedingly bad example for the young people. Not to mention you are ruining the jovial atmosphere of this family gathering."

Alfred's words hung in the air as everyone else kept silent.

"Fine," Bruce huffed. "I'll share."

Dick beamed. "Okay, good. Here's the plan. Steph and Cass are going to share the room with the queen bed."

Everyone nodded in acceptance.

"Bruce will share the king-sized bed, and Alfred will share the room with the two twin beds. The other two will share the pull-out bed." Dick gestured at the sofa. "It's also a queen."

Tim groaned. "I don't want to share."

"Well, then, Tim, you better hope you get lucky. Because…" Dick paused dramatically while Alfred handed him a bowl with folded pieces of paper inside… "we're drawing lots."

Jason, Tim, and Damian all frowned at Dick, but he remained unfazed. "Two of these babies say 'sofa,' once says 'Alfred,' and one says 'Bruce.' I imagine you can figure out what they mean."

"Tt. Of course, Grayson. We aren't stupid." A pause. "Except for Todd."

"I heard that," Jason growled, fairly good-naturedly, as he slapped Damian upside the head and reached over the kid to draw his piece of paper. Tim and Damian also drew theirs, leaving Dick the last one.

"Yes," Tim hissed, smiling. "I got Alfred." He showed off his slip of paper. "I get my own bed, I get my own bed."

"Don't rub it in," Bruce muttered darkly. He really hoped he didn't have to share with Jason. The kid never seemed to cut his toenails. Sleep with him and you'd wake up looking like you had traipsed through a jungle.

"Who-hoo!" Dick fist pumped the air and ran over to Bruce. "I'm sharing with you," he announced, utterly elated. Bruce forced himself to smile. Being cuddled in your sleep was not ideal (for Bruce anyway), but it was a far cry better than being clawed all night.

Jason and Damian glared at each other. "If you hog the covers, Demon-Spawn, I will kill you."

"Tt. I'd like to see you try."

* * *

That evening, the six kids all gathered around the campfire to make smores. As they were munching on their first round, Jason spoke up.

"You know what we're missing?"

A series of "mmmms" and "hnnnns" came from the others, whose mouths were too full to speak properly.

"A ghost story," Jason proclaimed. "And I've got just the one to get us started."

Dick gulped down his mouthful of smore. "Nothing too scary, Jays, okay? This is supposed to be a fun weekend."

"Yeah, yeah." Jason rolled his eyes. "Anyway, listen up. It was a dark and stormy night -."

"Cliché much?" Tim snorted.

"Shut up, Replacement. I'm telling the story."

"Guys," Dick started, but Jason waved away his objections.

"It was a dark and stormy night," he began again.

[Ten minutes later]

"The end," Jason announced, leaning back satisfied.

For a long while, no one spoke. Then….

"Jay, that was really scary!" Dick complained.

"Tt." Damian attempted to act cool, but Dick could tell the tale had affected him.

"Yeah," Steph agreed. "That was really dark and creepy."

"Well, I am the best at scary stories," Jason smugly replied. He leaned towards the fire and began to make more smores. "Smore anyone?"

The others just stared at Jason, still a bit afraid.

Finally, Cass turned to Steph. "Distraction," she half-stated, half-suggested.

"Right." Steph immediately launched into "Camptown Races," which was followed by a long series of campfire songs.

* * *

"Gee, Bruce, I sure am glad I'm sleeping with you," Dick commented, slipping under the sheets. "I know you'll keep me safe from the nightmares induced by Jason's story."

Bruce gave Dick a look. "Just stay on your own side of the bed," he grunted.

Dick threw his hands in the air in exasperation. "Bruce! It's a king-sized bed."

Bruce raised an eyebrow. "And your point is?"

Dick pouted a little. "Fine."

"I mean it, Dick," Bruce emphasized as he climbed into bed. "I like my space."

Dick sighed. "I know. I'll respect your personal space." But he sounded rather forlorn.

"Thank you." Bruce lay on his back, then rolled over. Moments later, he rolled over again. And then again.

"Bruuuuuce," Dick whined. "Stop moving the bed."

"Sorry, but this mattress is too soft."

"You could always sleep on the floor," Dick huffed, remembering how Bruce had complained earlier about not wanting to share. "I bet it's nice and hard."

"I'll live," Bruce grunted, although he sounded displeased. And, despite his efforts, he let his displeasure be known, continually sighing and grunting.

On his side of the bed, Dick frowned. How was he supposed to get any sleep with Bruce's symphony over there! With a sigh, Dick rolled over to face Bruce.

"Bruce?"

"Hmmm?"

"Thank you for coming camping."

"You're welcome."

"It really means a lot to all of us. Especially Damian. And me."

Bruce made a sound that was both an expression of gratitude and discomfort with sharing feelings.

"And I love you. Night, Dad." Dick quickly rolled over so that his back was facing Bruce.

Bruce gave a soft grunt that clearly meant "I love you, too." And, just as Dick had intended, the older man settled back against the too-soft mattress and dozed off, his head and heart filled with warmth.

* * *

It was around two in the morning when Bruce heard the noise. His eyes flew open, as he was on high alert. He was about to sit up when he felt a weight on his chest. Looking down he saw that Dick had pillowed his head on Bruce's abs and flung one arm across his chest. _So much for respecting personal space_.

"Grayson?" a soft voice hissed.

"Damian, is that you?" Bruce asked, even though he knew it had to be. No one else called Dick "Grayson."

"Father." Damian sounded ever-so-slightly disappointed as he drew up beside the bed.

"Do you ne-?"

"Father," Damian interrupted, "I didn't mean to interrupt anything."

"Huh?" Then Bruce remembered Dick was on his chest.

"Oh, Damian, it's nothing. You know how snuggly Dick gets in his sleep."

"True. He can be ridiculously grabby."

"Dami?" Dick slurred sleepily, raising his head an inch or two off Bruce's chest. "Dami, is that you?"

"Tt. Of course it's me, Grayson."

Dick raised his head and pushed himself into a sitting position. "What's up?" he asked, amazingly cheerful for having had his sleep interrupted.

"Well, uuum, I dreamt -." Damian faltered, seemingly embarrassed to admit weakness in front of Bruce.

Dick smiled, though. "Don't worry, Little D. Hop in bed with us. It's big enough!"

Damian looked to Bruce for confirmation that the bed was, indeed, big enough for three people. "Sure," Bruce confirmed. He started to scoot closer to the middle of the bed. "Just let me -."

He glanced up and saw that the spot Damian had previously occupied was now vacant. Damian was climbing into bed on the other side next to Dick, who moved closer to Bruce. Dick was whispering comforting things to Damian, who allowed, without protest, his older brother to pat his head.

Bruce tried not to feel jealous as Dick comforted his scared son, more quickly and effectively than he ever could.

* * *

Bruce awoke the next morning to shouts. He was about to dash out of the room, clad only in boxers, when his brain finally caught up with his acute hearing. Registering that they were shouts of irritation, not pain or fright, Bruce took a quick shower and dressed before going downstairs.

He was greeted with quite the spectacle. Jason was seated on a dining room chair, Dick sprawled out in his lap. Damian was lurking behind the chair, holding Jason's arms still. Tim and Cass sat on the floor, each one rendering one of Jason's legs immobile.

Steph, wielding nail clippers and an emery board, was cutting and filing down Jason's talon-like toenails.

"Stop! Just stop!" Jason shouted. "I do not need a goddamn pedicure!"

Dick tsked. "Jason, pedicures are nice."

"Maybe if you're metro-sexual," Jason rudely interrupted.

Undeterred, Dick continued, chipper as ever. "They keep your feet and nails healthy. You don't want an ingrown toenail, do you?"

"Yeah, I had one once and it hurt bad," Tim added. "But I let Steph trim my nails and I haven't had a problem since."

"You're pathetic," Jason hissed.

"That might be," Dick said breezily, "but your nails also inflicted bodily harm on Damian. You should see the scratches on his shins!"

"Yes, Todd, your weapon-like nails drove me to seek sleeping quarters elsewhere."

"Bullshit! You were scared by my story. You ran to Dickie-bird like a little baby!"

"I did not!" Damian insisted, grateful Todd couldn't see his slight blush.

"It doesn't matter," Cass interjected. "Your nails are gross anyway."

"Oh yeah. Well, I oughta -. Ahhh!"

Jason had tried to kick Cass, who promptly hit his knee in just the right way to cause maximum (albeit temporary) nerve discomfort.

About a minute later, Steph leaned back, satisfied. "There! All done. I'd even paint them if I had any polish with me."

"Yeah, Steph, you should paint his nails red sometime," Dick encouraged, grinning wickedly.

Tim, Cass, and Damian all voiced their agreement.

"I hate you all," Jason sneered.

* * *

One hearty and delicious breakfast later, and all six young people were on a trail, hiking through the woods.

"Okay, if we follow the blue path," Dick brandished a map of the hiking trails, "it takes us to a waterfall. Sound good?"

Cass and Steph agreed enthusiastically. Damian merely nodded, while Jason (annoyed that his hiking shoes fit so much better with his newly-trimmed nails) muttered his agreement. Tim, head bent over his iPhone, didn't respond.

"Alright, then. Let's go!"

Fifteen minutes later…

"Dumbass! Watch where you're going!" Jason shouted, shoving Tim, who had just walked into him.

"Jeez, sorry! Excuse me for walking!"

"Oh, I'll excuse you for walking, but I won't excuse you for not paying attention, tech-boy!"

"What do you mean?"

"I mean, put your damn phone away and watch where you're going!"

"Jerk," Tim muttered, turning back to his iPhone.

"Tim, you can internet anywhere," Dick said, exasperated, hands on his hips.

"I know. Isn't 4G technology great?"

"Tim!" Steph karate-chopped his head.

"Ow! What was that for?"

"For ruining family time, you idiot. Can't you see you hurt your brother's feelings?"

Tim looked at Dick, who pouted back at him.

"Oh come on! He's totally faking it."

"Timmy, why don't you want to spend time with us? I thought you loved your family, little bro."

"I do, but hiking isn't really my th-."

"Timmy, don't you love me?" Dick cried.

"I do, but -."

"Timmy loves the internet more than me," Dick practically wailed, causing Steph, Jason, Cass, and Damian to all fix Tim with death glares.

"Drake, I swear, if you upset Grayson, I will -."

"Tim, put the phone away," Steph insisted, crossing her arms over her chest.

"Or what?" Tim asked her.

Steph glared at him, "don't-mess-with-me" written all over her face. "Or you will regret it." Her eyes suggested the answer was "I won't kiss you for a month," which was a bit more than Tim could take.

"Fine," he huffed, pocketing his phone.

"Bring your phone out again, and Cass will karate chop you," Steph threatened, while Cass solemnly nodded her head as though she had just undertaken a religious duty.

"Okay, great!" Dick chirped, all smiles. "To the waterfall!"

For a state park, the waterfall was suitably impressive. After gazing their fill, the group turned to go when Steph and Cass noticed that Tim had his iPhone out again. Without warning, Cass karate-chopped Tim, who was immediately rendered unconscious.

"Whoa, what was that?" Jason asked, catching Tim falling body on instinct.

"He had his phone out again," Steph stated.

"So you knocked him out?" Jason was impressed by her ruthlessness.

"Well, Cass did. It's one of her signature moves."

Cass nodded and demonstrated the chop on an imaginary head in the air.

"Nice." Jason would have to see if the Outlaws had room for new recruits.

"What happened to Tim?' Dick asked, bringing up the rear with Damian.

"He had his phone out, so now he's out," Steph explained.

Dick looked shocked, but the damage had been done. "For how long?"

"Maybe thirty minutes," Cass said.

"Thirty minutes!" Damian spluttered. "We have to wait out here for thirty minutes because of that imbecile Drake!"

"Well, unless you want to carry him back, yes," Dick said.

"Tt. I'm not carrying _him_ anywhere."

"Well, then, I guess we better start enjoying nature."

While they waited for Tim to regain consciousness, Cass and Steph scrolled through all the pictures on his phone.

"Should you be doing that?" Dick asked.

"Hey, I'm his girlfriend!" Steph defended.

"I thought you guys were having an off-month," Dick protested.

"Well, I'm more his girlfriend than any of you, so I get his phone."

"Fine by me," Jason drawled.

While the girls laughed over Tim's photos (and texted any especially juicy pictures to themselves), Dick and Jason sat on a rock and sent Damian on a scavenger hunt.

"Okay, bring me an oak leaf," Dick said. Damian went running into the woods, grabbing random leaves until he had an oak leaf, which he delivered to Dick.

"Great job!" Dick praised.

"Okay, bring back a maple leaf," Jason ordered. Damian looked at Dick, who nodded, and then took off.

By the time Tim came to, Damian had accumulated quite the pile of treasures.

"Okay, last thing," Dick pronounced. "Bring back five plants that you can identify. But keep them a secret. When we get back to the cabin, you can show Bruce. He'll be really proud of your knowledge!"

"Really?" Damian was slightly dubious his father would be impressed by knowledge of a few silly plants.

"Sure," Dick assured him. "Bruce appreciates knowledge of all kinds."

Damian took off immediately.

"What is this?" Jason asked. "You trying to help Damian get a Bat-Scout merit badge?"

Dick chuckled. "No, I'm just trying to bring the outdoors to Bruce since he refuses to go to them."

It was true. Bruce was back in the cabin, working online.

Jason just shook his head. "Good luck with that."

* * *

They were able to entice Bruce to come outside for lunch. Afterwards, Damian produced his haul of secret samples. Ever the overachiever, he must have brought back at least fifteen samples, which he proudly displayed and identified to everyone.

Finally, Damian laid out his last sample. "See, Father." He handed the sample to Bruce, just as he had done with all the others. "And this is -."

"POISON IVY!" Bruce shouted, panicked. Apparently, Damian had grabbed a bit of poison ivy when he retrieved his final leaf; it had revealed itself when Bruce picked the sample up.

Everyone jumped back from Bruce and Damian, trying to keep as far away as possible from the foul plant.

"Alfred," Bruce screamed. "Alfred! The kids brought back poison ivy!"

Alfred appeared at the back door. "I'm right here, Master Bruce. Please come inside and wash thoroughly. An ounce of prevention and all that rot."

Bruce sprinted inside, dashing for the shower.

"Damian, you should wash up, too," Dick said.

"Indeed," Alfred agreed. "Master Damian, if you would." The elderly gentleman gestured inside, and Damian, scowling, followed him.

After retrieving some rubber gloves from the kitchen, Dick threw all the plant samples in the garbage. Bruce then started shouting out his bedroom window that everyone needed to decontaminate, so they all trooped inside and took showers.

Ever prone to overreaction, Bruce decreed that no one was going outside until they left the next day.

"I don't want anyone to bring in even a single spore of poison ivy," he had insisted before hiding in his room with his laptop.

As the kids sat around the cabin's living room, drinking Alfred's delicious hot apple cider and watching Dick and Damian construct a campfire out of construction paper, Tim asked:

"Why did Bruce freak out so much?"

"Yeah, that was kind of unlike him," Steph agreed.

"Oh, well," Dick hemmed and hawed, "Bruce doesn't like poison ivy."

"Obviously," Jason snorted. "Care to elaborate."

Dick said nothing, just put the finishing touches on the fake campfire. He then sat down in the big armchair, scooting over to make room for Damian, who squeezed in beside him.

"Well, there was this one time when Bruce and I went camping…"

"WHAT!? Bruce has been camping before?" Jason shouted.

Dick held out his hands, palms out. "Calm down. It was only once. And it wasn't his idea."

"Oh?" Jason queried. Cass tiled her head, eager to hear more.

"Okay, so I was about eleven and Clark decided we needed a mentor-mentee camping weekend."

Jason snorted. "Of course he did."

"So me, Bruce, Wally, Barry, Roy, Ollie, and Clark went camping this one weekend."

"Why Clark?" Tim interrupted. "He didn't have a kid."

"He was there for extra adult supervision. And trust me, we needed him. Ollie got really drunk Friday night and was useless the rest of the weekend."

"Typical," several of the Batkids muttered, rolling their eyes.

"Right. So we're camping, and it's fun. But on Saturday, Clark has us do a scavenger hunt. We have to gather up all these things, and whoever had the most after an hour won."

"I bet you won," Tim said.

Dick beamed. "You're darn right I did! Anyway, Bruce was holding my stuff. And some of my leaves must have had poison ivy on them because his arms and chest had broken out by Sunday morning."

"Ewwww," Steph groaned.

"Yeah, ew is right," Dick agreed. "It was really bad. He was seeping and stuff." Dick made a face, then shook his head to remove the memory. "Batman was grounded for almost two weeks."

"What about you?" Cass asked.

Dick shrugged. "I was fine. I guess Bruce is more sensitive than me."

"Hoo boy, he must have been pissed at you," Jason hooted.

"Nah. He was mad at Clark for making us go camping in the first place."

"Of course." Jason sighed and slumped a little in his chair. "You're never to blame Goldie."

* * *

When Dick awoke that Sunday morning, he found a groaning Bruce next to him in bed.

"Bruce, are you okay?"

"No," Bruce shot back. "It happened. I was so careful and it happened again." With another moan, he held up his arms, which were covered in a red, bumpy rash.

"Oh, no," Dick groaned, leaning down for a look. "On the bright side, it's not as bad as last time."

"I hate nature," Bruce stated flatly.

Dick shook his head fondly and jumped out of bed. "I better check on Damian. With your supposedly "perfect" genes, he might be hurting as well."

Bruce's only response was another moan.

With a sigh, Dick headed downstairs. "Damian," he hissed, peeking his head around the corner of the living room. "Damian?"

"Grayson, I have been contaminated," Damian groaned, raising his arms from the bed.

"Dang it! I was afraid of that."

"Father, too?"

"Bruce, too."

"This is unacceptable. Mother told me I had perfect genes."

"Nobody's perfect, Little D. But don't worry, we'll put some lotion on you and have you all better in no time."

"Really?"

"Really," Dick lied. He didn't want to depress the kid too much. But his reaction was pretty bad.

At that moment, Jason rolled over. "Ha! You got poison ivy, too, Demon-Spawn."

Damian glared at Jason but said nothing.

"Jason, that's not very nice," Dick admonished.

Jason just shrugged and tossed the covers off. He noticed a faint itch in his forearm and reached down to scratch it. He looked down.

"Damn it! The demon infected me!" Indeed, Jason's arms had a faint poison ivy rash on them.

"Oh, Jay, calm down. It doesn't look too bad," Dick soothed.

"Like hell it doesn't!"

"It's not as bad as Damian's," Dick admitted truthfully, which put Damian on alert.

At that moment, Alfred appeared. "Is everything alright down here?"

"Pennyworth, I have been infected!" Damian shouted, flailing his arms.

"Me, too, Alfie," Jason growled. "Demon-spawn contaminated me."

"Dear me," Alfred murmured, stepping up to the bed with some soothing lotion. "Put this on the rash, young sirs, and don't scratch it."

"Easy for you to say," Jason murmured, but he and Damian both did as Alfred asked.

After they were coated in lotion, the two leaned back on the sofa bed.

"I hate nature," Damian stated.

"Me too, kid, me too," Jason echoed.

Dick and Alfred shared a look.

Like father, like sons, they supposed.


	15. Shrunk

**I see so many Dick de-aged fics that I decided I wanted to do one, too. Because if everyone jumped off a bridge… I tried to do a little something different, though.**

**This is going to be told from Dick's POV.**

* * *

It was just our luck. What initially was going to be a Thursday-night Family Movie Night (and we were going to watch _Brave_ – how sweet is that!) instead was turned into a Thursday-night Chase an Alien night. All because the Justice League had been tracking an alien for days, but now said alien had turned up in Gotham. Naturally, Bruce told the League (in no uncertain terms) that we would handle it. So instead of watching a movie and eating delicious buttery popcorn, Bruce, Jason, Tim, Damian, and I were all out on the prowl for an alien.

"I've got my sights on him," Red Hood announced. "He's in the northwest corner of the warehouse."

"Good," Batman gruffly replied. "Nightwing, you go in with Red Hood. Take it by the numbers."

"You got it, boss!" With any luck, we'd wrap this up lickedy-split and be home in time to watch our film.

As I swooped down to Jason's side, I heard Bruce giving orders to Robin and Red Robin. Once everyone was in position, we sprang.

A quick battle ensued. The alien was no match for all of us, and we had him (her?) subdued and in a net within five minutes. Batman called the JLA, and we stood around, idly watching the alien while we waited for Superman. And that was when it happened.

I was standing there, minding my own business, when a strange warmth enveloped me. I heard Tim shout, and then everything went black.

* * *

I woke up only a minute later to find everyone staring at me. From a long ways away. Had I fallen down?

I looked down and was surprised to see my Nightwing costume pooled around me. Even my boxer briefs were hanging off my body. I gasped and held out my arm for inspection. It was so small! The alien had shrunk me!

"Ahhh, I'm widdle!" I shouted, which gave me pause. Did I just say "widdle?" What twenty-something does _that_?

Robin bent down closer to me and gave me the once-over. He gingerly poked my arm. I gave him a look, and he poked me again, harder.

I tried to say "Robin! Stop it! That hurts," but I quickly discovered that my mouth was not obeying my brain.

"Wobin! Stowpit! Da hoorts!" _Was that even English_?

"Oh God," Jason muttered. "Just what we need around the cave – a baby." Then, without any prompting, he reached down and picked me up. My clothes slid off my body; Tim kindly gathered them up. Jason, however, seemed not to mind that he was holding a naked baby.

"This better be temporary, though," he added, as I attempted to snuggle against him. _Look, if I was the size of a toddler, I might as well use it to my advantage, right?_

"We'll ask Superman when he arrives," Batman replied, completely calm. And why shouldn't he have been. Crazy crap like this happens to us _all the time_.

"You rang?" said the voice of the one and only Big Blue Boy Scout.

"Suwperman!" I shouted, squirming in Jason's grasp. "Suwperman!"

Clark's eyes widened as he saw me. "Oh my gosh."

"Ahh, shit!" Red Hood suddenly shouted, holding me away from his body and gesturing angrily at his costume. "The kid pissed on me."

_Oops. Well, I had been pretty excited to see Superman. Apparently, in my small state, I not only had decreased control over my mouth but also my bladder._

Bruce just sighed. "Get this creature out of here." He tossed the net containing the alien at Clark. "And ask him how to fix that." He gestured at me.

"Right. Will do."

It required a bit of scrambling to get us all back to the cave. Since I was in no condition to drive my motorcycle, Bruce told Damian to drive it. Jason and Tim handled their own bikes. Meanwhile, my Nightwing costume was piled on the Batmobile's passenger seat, I was placed on top, and then I was strapped in with more harnesses than I knew the car possessed.

"Be good," Bruce admonished before closing my door and rapidly dashing around the front of the car to the driver's side. He was quick – I didn't have time to push any buttons.

On the way home, Bruce video called Alfred.

"Alfred, we have a situation."

"Oh dear. Is anyone injured Master Bruce?"

"Not as such. But Dick is…." Bruce paused, unsure of what to say.

So I decided to help him out. Leaning over as far the harnesses would let me, I peered at Alfred. "Hi, Alfwed!" I gave him a little wave.

Alfred's eyed widened ever-so-slightly. "Is that Master Dick?"

"I'm afraid so. The alien de-aged him. Clark is talking to the alien now."

"I see sir. Any special preparations?"

"Well, Tim's picking up some diapers on the way home. And a sleeper. We'll go from there."

"Diapers, sir?" Alfred paled a little.

"I'm afraid so. He urinated on Jason in his excitement over seeing Clark."

Alfred chuckled. "Indeed, sir." And the screen went blank.

"Bye, bye." I waved at the screen. Out of the corner of my eye, I saw the barest ghost of a smile creep across Bruce's face. He reached over and ruffled my hair. "What am I going to do with you, chum" he asked, amusement in his voice.

Without even thinking, I said the most toddler-esque thing I could think of. "Play!" I exclaimed, clapping my hands in delight.

Bruce gave a small smile. "I think I can do that."

Delightedly, I clapped my hands and shouted "play!" several more times as the Batmobile moved ever-closer to home. Each time Bruce momentarily smiled.

_He likes me as a baby._

I suddenly realized I had just been given a great gift. My body had been de-aged, but my mind had not. I remembered everything - I could even still read (discovered courtesy of the warning label on one of my many harnesses). As annoying at it would be to have my adult mind trapped in a toddler's body (which I was quickly learning wasn't capable of anything), I had a great opportunity. Bruce was already getting a kick out of having me as a baby; it would be great to make him happy.

And I could have a lot of fun in the process.

* * *

The second Bruce put me down, I took off running. _Little kids like running around naked, right?_ Despite the chill in the cave, I realized that I rather liked running around naked. It was very freeing.

"Ahhhhhh," I shouted happily as I tore across the cave floor, flailing my arms wildly.

"Dick. Dickie." Bruce paused, trying to decide what name he liked better. "Dickie, be careful!"

I just laughed. _This is fun_. I was tempted to repeat what Bruce had said, but "be careful" was too hard to say. Instead I settled on random shouts of joy. Much better.

"Well he seems healthy, sir," Alfred commented as I raced past him, my bare little feet slapping the ground.

Bruce nodded, removing the cowl. "He certainly does. He was just de-aged, although he seems to have memories of us, which is a blessing. I can't imagine dealing with a terrified two-year-old boy."

"Indeed, sir."

_So Bruce has decided I'm two? Well, that's fine. He doesn't seem to realize my brain is okay, which is good_. It would be much more fun for Bruce to think I was a toddler in mind as well as body.

I had gotten tired of running and was crawling around underneath the Batcomputer when Tim and Damian came home. Naturally, they were arguing.

"Drake, I can't believe you got those atrocious diapers."

"What? They were on sale!"

"They have butterflies on them," Damian sneered.

"Like Dick's going to care," Tim scoffed. "He's a little kid. He won't know."

Damian crossed his arms. _Apparently Little D is into strict gender binaries_, I thought.

"At least you didn't purchase that heinous plaid sleeper," Damian added.

"Give me a break! I didn't realize they had a Batman one until you pointed it out to me."

Bruce emerged from the showers. "You got Dick a Batman sleeper?" He sounded pleased.

"Yes, Father, we did." Damian pulled the sleeper out of the bag with a flourish.

Bruce walked over and grabbed it. He quickly inspected it. "Looks good." He glanced around. "Dickie? Dickie, where are you?"

"He's currently under the computer, sir." _Of course, Alfred had been watching my every move_.

"Dickie, come here," Bruce practically cooed. Damian and Tim looked at each other in shock. "Time to put your pjs on."

I peeked out from under the computer. I was about to toddle over when I remembered something – I was two!

"No," I said, diving back under the computer.

Bruce sighed. "Dickie, come on. Please?"

"No."

"Dickie."

"No."

Suddenly, a loud roar erupted in my ear.

"Ahhhh," I screamed, diving out from underneath the desk and running over to Bruce in fright. I ran up to his leg and wrapped my arms around it, quivering.

"Jason," Bruce said annoyed, as my brother appeared from behind the computer.

"What? You wanted him, he's out."

"Not like that, though," Bruce groused, picking me up. "It's okay, Dickie," he soothed.

I whimpered and cuddled against his chest. Bruce patted my head and continued murmuring comforting words to me as he carried me upstairs.

We entered my suite, and I discovered that Alfred had drawn a bath. Bruce tested the water temperature, then dropped me in. He gave me a quick scrub (I was a little dirty from the cave), then laid me down on my bathroom counter and put my diaper on. He then carried me out to my bed, on which lay my new Batman sleeper. I pointed at it. "Fo me?"

"Yes, Dickie, that's for you. You can be Batman."

Bruce put me in the footed sleeper and zipped me up. I started to jump on my bed (_which was awesome!_), shouting happily, while he just stood at the end of my bed and regarded me fondly.

"Me Batman!" I shouted, taking a leap and landing face-first in my pillows. Giggling, I picked myself up and kept jumping. I tried to do some acrobatics, but my body wasn't cooperating. I would have to work on that.

"Me Batman," I shouted again.

"That's right," Bruce replied. "You'll be a great Batman when you're big, Dickie."

I paused in my jumping to look at Bruce. I smiled at him. "Me," I pointed at myself, "be like daddy." And I pointed at him.

Bruce smiled – for real, actually smiled. "That's right; you'll be like daddy."

* * *

A few minutes later, we headed downstairs because Alfred had informed us that Clark had arrived.

He was standing in the foyer in regular clothes, a large box at his feet.

I skidded across the smooth floor. "Cwark!"

"Hello there." He smiled at me, although he wasn't sure how to react beyond that.

"What's in the box?" Bruce asked, gesturing.

"Ahh, yes. Well, I zipped over to Roy's house to bring you some of Lian's hand-me-downs. I figured Dick wouldn't mind since he's just a baby."

Bruce frowned and opened the box. I peered inside along with him. Sure, they were girl's clothes, but I remembered Lian having some good times in them. I would be happy to wear her stuff.

Bruce glanced at the clothes, while I happily crawled inside the box and began to rifle through them.

"I'm guessing it will be a while."

Clark nodded. "The alien said it will probably be at least one month – maybe four."

_Four months as a two-year-old!?_

"I see. Anything we can do?"

"Probably not. It will wear off, but it just takes time."

"Four months," Bruce breathed.

I pulled myself up and grinned at Clark. "Four!" I announced, holding my hand up.

"No, Dickie, that's five," Bruce said.

"Five!" I waved my hand at Clark.

"Now this is four." Bruce reached over and gently bent my thumb down. "That's four."

"Four!" I proudly showed my four fingers to Clark.

"So how old do you think he is?" Clark asked, looking at Bruce.

"About two."

"Two!" I held two fingers up to Clark.

"Very good, Dickie," Bruce praised, apparently impressed that I had put two fingers up all by myself.

I beamed. "Imma goo boy."

"Yes, you are." Bruce reached down and picked me up, pulling me out of the box of clothes. "And I think it's time for you to go to bed."

"Awww." I pouted a little, but, truth be told, I was actually a bit tired.

"Alright then, I'll be going," Clark announced. "Let me know if you need any help."

"Will do. And thanks for the clothes."

Bruce carried me upstairs. But instead of taking me into my own bathroom, he took me into his bathroom. A brand-new child-sized Batman toothbrush was waiting for me.

Although I imagine two-year-olds are not supposed to enjoy having their teeth brushed, I didn't have the heart to give Bruce trouble. So I sat on the bathroom counter and let Bruce brush my teeth.

When he was done, Bruce picked me and carried me to my bed. Only he didn't take me to my own room, but rather down the hall to the nursery. Once there, he laid me down in the crib and then pulled the bar up.

"Good night, Dickie."

"Nigh, night."

After Bruce left, I tried to get out of the crib. Unfortunately, my acrobatics weren't exactly up to speed. Eventually, I gave up, laid down, and went to sleep.

But a couple of hours later I woke up. I couldn't sleep in that crib – the mattress was hard as a rock! I attempted to get out on my own, but still couldn't make it happen. So I gave up and started shouting, hoping someone would come rescue me.

The door opened after only a few short minutes. I was expecting Bruce, but it was Damian who materialized before me.

"Grayson, what is going on in here?"

I cocked my head at him. Surely, a two-year-old wouldn't respond to his last name.

Damian sighed at my confusion. "Why all this noise?"

"Bed hoorts," I whimpered.

"Tt."

"It's ouchy," I clarified.

Damian leaned over and punched the crib mattress. It didn't move.

"You are correct. That mattress is like a wooden board."

Glad to have Damian on my side, I held up my arms. "Up. Up."

With a sigh, Damian lowered the crib rail and lifted me out. "Now where are you going to sleep?"

"Wif you?" I gave Damian my patented puppy-dog eyes.

"Tt." But he took me into his room and laid me down on his bed, then climbed in beside me.

I immediately scooted closer to him. "Nigh night, Dami."

"Good night."

All was quiet for a minute or two, then Damian added, "If you urinate in my bed, Grayson, I will kill you."

_Ahh, now there was the Damian I know and love_.

* * *

**I hope everyone is okay with this. I have a couple stories for pint-sized Dick in my head, and then it will be back to normal. Let me know if you have strong feelings about these stories (yeah or nay). I could not do them if people are totally over the de-aged kind of stuff. Thanks!**


	16. Shrunk 2

**Wow, thanks for the great feedback everyone! I'm so glad people liked the story. Many, many thanks to everyone who reviewed.**

* * *

I awoke the next morning, snuggled next to Damian, to the sound of frantic voices and rapid movement. _What the heck?_

All of a sudden Damian's door burst open, and a rather haggard-looking Bruce appeared in the doorway. I raised my head from Damian's chest and smiled at him.

"Daddy!" I shouted (right in Damian's ear), sticking my arms up in the near-universal "pick-me-up" gesture.

"Grayson, quiet down," Damian snarled, giving me the evil eye with only one half-opened eye.

I ignored him. "Daddy!" I said again, holding up my arms.

Upon seeing me in Damian's bed, Bruce had calmed down considerably and darted out into the hallway to shout for Alfred. He finally popped back inside, and scooped me up.

"Why are you in here, Dickie?" he asked gently. "I was worried about you when you weren't in your bed." _So that explains the shouting and banging._

"My bed ouchy," I explained. Naturally, Bruce did not comprehend.

"Damian, why is he in here?"

Very unwillingly (it was pretty early in the morning for him), Damian opened his eyes and faced Bruce. "Father, the crib mattress is as hard as a piece of wood. Grayson might as well sleep on the floor. He was making a lot of noise last night, so I brought him in here to sleep."

"Is that true, Dickie? Your bed is not soft?"

I nodded vigorously. "Uh-huh. My bed ouchy but Dami bed soft."

Bruce ruffled my hair. "Well, we'll have to fix that, little chum. And thank you, Damian, for letting Dick sleep with you."

"You're welcome, Father."

"Dami nice!" I said with delight, clapping my hands.

Bruce raised an eyebrow and looked at me as though I had taken leave of my sense (which, as far as he knew, I had). _I guess "nice" isn't exactly how most people would describe Damian_.

"May I please return to sleep, Father?" Damian grumbled.

"Sure, Damian." Damian rolled over, his back to us. Bruce smiled down at me. "Let's get some breakfast."

* * *

Minutes later I had on a clean diaper and was firmly ensconced in the Wayne family high-chair, a massive wooden contraption that looked like it could hold three toddlers. Consequently, Bruce had piled pillows all around me in an effort to prevent me from falling out. Well, and to make the chair more comfortable. _What can I say? Bruce knew how to spoil a baby_.

As Alfred put the finishing touches on whatever was breakfast, Bruce handed me a spoon, which I promptly began to bang on the high-chair tray. Pleased with the noise I was making, I started to shout along. "La la la la la la," I repeated constantly.

Jason, who despite the early hour was already at the kitchen table drinking coffee, lowered his newspaper and glared.

"Can you shut up?"

"Jason!" Bruce gasped, shocked he would say "shut up" to a toddler. "He's singing!"

"Well he sucks and should shut it. Some of us are trying to enjoy the paper."

"Jason, really. He's just a little boy. Let him play."

"Pway, pway!" I shouted, banging my spoon.

Jason groaned, but Bruce beamed at me. "That's right, play a song for daddy."

I did my best to bang out a passable tune for Bruce on the high chair. Jason, meanwhile, pretended to barf. Whether it was over my toddler-esque musical abilities or Bruce's doting, I couldn't be sure.

Moments later, Alfred set a huge bowl of oatmeal in front of me. He had put craisins in it, just as I liked. Oh and tons of cinnamon and sugar. Yummy.

Bruce, on the other hand, had a bowl of plain, very-bland-looking oatmeal. _Bummer_. He made a face at his bowl when Alfred wasn't looking.

A minute later, when Jason got up to get some food and Alfred's back was turned, Bruce grabbed my bowl and dumped some of my food into his bowl.

"It's our secret," he whispered. I giggled.

I ate a few more bites of oatmeal (I had to eat slowly because my mouth was really small now!). But when Jason returned to the table, I saw that he had a bowl of Lucky Charms. Mmmmmm. That oatmeal wasn't looking so good anymore. Besides – those were my Lucky Charms. I was the one who had asked Alfred to buy them!

"Wha dat?" I asked, pointing a fat baby finger towards Jason.

"Food," Jason replied.

Bruce frowned slightly. "Those are Lucky Charms, Dickie."

"Wucky Chams?"

"That's right," Bruce encouraged even though I had totally butchered the pronunciation.

"Wan dat!" I wiggled my finger at Jason's cereal.

"Okay," Bruce smiled, no doubt imaging he could then eat my oatmeal. "Alfred, Dick wants some Lucky Charms."

"My apologies, sir, but Master Jason has eaten the last of them."

My mouth dropped open. Jason had eaten MY cereal?

Recovering from my shock, I looked at Bruce. "Daddy, wan dat."

"Sorry, chum, they're all gone."

"All gone?" my face started to contort. I was on the verge of crying. "But I wan dat," I wailed.

"Jason," Bruce hissed, "how could you eat all of Dick's cereal?"

"What? How was I supposed to know he'd want it?"

"It's his cereal."

"He's two! He didn't even know what Lucky Charms were until you told him!"

"Well, you shouldn't have been eating them in front of him."

"Well, excuse me for wanting breakfast."

"Wannnn datttttt," I wailed, beginning to cry. Bruce looked pityingly at me, sighed, grit his teeth, and turned back to Jason.

"Jason, go to the grocery and get more Lucky Charms."

"Me! Why can't you go?"

"Someone has to stay here with Dick."

"Why can't I?"

Bruce bat-glared at Jason as he simultaneously picked me up and snuggled me in an effort to quiet my crying. I quieted down and burrowed deeper into his chest.

"Fine," Jason sighed. "But I'm taking whatever car I want."

"Not the -."

"Whatever car I want."

"Fine."

"And I need some money. Cereal isn't free, ya know."

Holding me on his hip with one hand, Bruce pulled his wallet out of his pocket (strangely enough, he always has his wallet on him, even in his own house), and fished a fifty out.

"Here, it's the smallest I have."

"Don't expect any change, old man," Jason hooted, pocketing the bill.

"You better not buy fifty-dollars-worth of Lucky Charms," Bruce admonished.

"Pfff. Only Dick would be crazy enough to buy fifty-dollars-worth of cereal."

"No cigarettes," Bruce called after Jason.

"Okay!"

A moment's pause. "And no beer either!"

"I can't hear you," Jason yelled back, followed by a vigorous slam of the garage door.

* * *

Although I had to wait an hour for my cereal, it was worth it. Bruce let me sit in his lap the entire time we waited, which was infinitely more comfortable than the high chair. Plus, it meant I could surreptitiously read the newspaper since Bruce had it spread out in front of him.

After two bowls of Lucky Charms, Damian and Tim had finally emerged from their beds.

They were both eating breakfast when I finally finished my cereal and was released from Bruce's lap.

I ran right up to Damian and started tugging on his pant leg. "Dami, pway wif me!" I pleaded.

Dami looked down at me (which was weird since it's usually the other way around). "Tt. I do not play."

I made a face. "Pway!" I insisted.

"Tt."

I stepped back, put my hands on my hips and glared at him. "Tt," I imitated, hissing a bit more than Damian usually did. _This was fun!_

"Tt. Tt. Tt. Tt." I repeated over and over again, still glaring at Damian.

Tim groaned. "Damian, you have to go play with him now."

"You do not order me around, Drake."

Tim ignored Damian's comment. "Consider it reparations for teaching him to say 'tt.'"

_Oooh, I liked that idea_. I 'tt'-ed with a bit more force. I was definitely grating on Tim's nerves.

"Bruce, make Damian take Dick outside. His hissing is driving me nuts."

Bruce, who had either been charmed by my hissing or miraculously able to ignore it, liked that idea. He leaned down and smiled at me. "Dickie, do you want to play outside?"

"Yeaaaaa," I crowed.

"Let's go!" Bruce picked me up. "Damian, you're coming." It was not a question (or even a request), but an order.

Damian sighed (carefully avoiding a tt) and followed us.

I actually still had my pajamas on, which I didn't want to get dirty. After all, they were Batman, and I needed to show some respect. Consequently, the first moment Bruce turned his back, I pulled down the zipper and stripped down to my diaper. Leaving my sleeper on the patio, I took off running across the grass.

"Wheeeeee!"

Bruce was investigating a problem with the patio furniture, so he simply sent Damian after me. Damian, however, was not too keen to chase me down. Which meant I was unsupervised when I found the mud puddle.

"Grayson!" Damian gaped when he came up and saw me sitting in a pool of mud, throwing little globs of it around and making myself a complete mess.

Since he called me by my last name, though, I completely ignored Damian. He paused for a moment, then tried again.

"Dick." A pause, then a barely audible groan. "Dickie!"

I looked up and beamed. "Dami! Pway, pway!"

Damian tentatively crept closer. When I estimated he was in range, I hurled a glob of mud at him.

Bingo! It hit him smack in the chest.

"GRAYSON!" he shouted, beyond annoyed. I just giggled at him.

"No one defeats the scion of the House of Wayne in a mud war!"

Mud war was right. Damian had relaxed considerably once he realized I was (obviously) no match for him. I mean, I was not quite three feet tall and probably weighed less than Bruce's cape. Of course, he was going to win.

Having been assured victory, Damian was content to cover me in mud from head to foot. In return, I splattered his clothes, face, and hair with mud. We were a sight, but it had been great. _I can't believe I'd forgotten how much fun mud was!_

Damian and I were getting along like gangbusters, making mud cakes, when Bruce loped up to us. "Oh my."

"Father, I found Grayson playing in the mud."

"I can see that, Damian."

"He invited me to play as well. I consented because I have read that mud is good for the skin. It helps to remove toxins from the body."

Bruce frowned, no doubt wondering if Damian had been reading a women's magazine. _Is it so wrong to borrow them from Steph in order to make gift shopping for our lady friends easier?_

"I think that might be a certain kind of mud, Damian. Not just any old variety from the backyard."

"Well, that distinction is immaterial now."

Bruce nodded. "True." Then he looked at me. "Dickie, did you have fun?"

"Pway!" I threw a glob of mud at Bruce. It was entirely unexpected and it hit his leg. He seemed shock I had actually been able to hit a target. In his momentary distraction, Damian flung a huge glob at Bruce's hair. It stuck.

And the fight was on for who would be the Wayne king of Mudville.

* * *

Bruce made short work of Damian. Within three minutes, he was as dirty as I.

Flush with victory, Bruce decided it was bath time. Picking me up, we headed to the patio. Alfred met us at the back door, and he nearly keeled over from a heart attack.

"You are not bringing those clothes inside this house."

"But Alfred, -."

"Muddy clothes off. Leave them there." He randomly pointed to a corner of the patio. "I shall draw a bath in the downstairs tub for the young sirs."

Bruce and Damian stripped to their not-very muddy boxers. Bruce took off my diaper and then carried me straight to the bathtub. Alfred had graciously drawn us a bubble bath.

"Bubbles!" I cried joyously and pointed.

"That's right, Dickie. Bubbles." Bruce eased me into the water. "Now let's get you cleaned up."

Damian came in a moment later, as Bruce was rubbing the initial layer of grit off me. "Hop in."

Damian drew back. "I am not sharing a tub."

"Oh come on, Damian. It's big enough and you're both c-." Bruce paused. "Young," he corrected. "Besides, you can play with Dick's toys."

Bruce pulled a bag of toys out from under the sink and dropped them into the bathtub. I hadn't seen these toys on years – since I was Damian's age!

"Where did these come from?" Damian asked, curiously inspecting a boat.

"Dick had them when he was a kid," Bruce replied, shampooing my hair.

"Ducky, ducky," I stretched my hand out for a rubber ducky. Bruce passed it to me.

"Quack, quack," I said as the duck swam around the tub. I was pleased to note that Damian was enjoying my old boats, even though he was pretending not to.

At that moment Tim came in. "Bruce, I can take over here. Alfred says you need to shower. He's afraid you'll get mud in the house."

Before Bruce could respond, Damian shrieked, "No! I refuse to let Drake see me like this!"

Tim smirked. "What naked?"

"Boys," Bruce sighed, getting up. Damian huffed as Tim took over rinsing my hair and Bruce left.

"We will never speak of this again, Drake," he hissed.

Tim just chuckled. "Maybe you never will."

I could sense that Damian was getting angry and Tim was only too happy to egg him on. Fortuitously remembering that my favorite rubber ducky was also a squirt toy, I plunged it beneath the bubbles and squeezed. Once it was full, I pulled it out of the water and merrily squirted Tim in the face and chest, giggling the entire time.

"Hey!" Tim laughed, thankfully being a good sport as he held up his arms to shield his face.

Damian quickly caught on and pulled another squirt toy out of the sack. He began to squirt Tim as well, so I turned my fire onto Damian. Tim then grabbed a toy and started to return Damian's fire. However, it quickly degenerated into the three of us squirting wherever, which left the bathroom a complete mess. Even the toilet paper was soaked by the time Bruce returned from his shower.

He just sighed and picked me up and wrapped me in a warm, fluffy towel. "You two are cleaning this up – together," he announced, not even bothering to turn around.

* * *

Later that day, Bruce needed to retreat to his study to do some work. Therefore, he left me in the care of Tim and Jason, who were watching television in the entertainment room.

For a while, Tim played trucks with me (although I annoyed him by randomly sticking the trucks in my mouth from time to time).

Eventually, Tim found a pile of picture books and we sat on the couch and he read to me. It was great. I hadn't read those books in over fifteen years, and Tim was a good reader (although he could have done more silly voices). After about half an hour we had to stop because Jason kept yelling, "Quiet down! I'm watching something here."

No sooner had I taken a book from the stack and told Tim, "I read it," then Jason found _Pulp Fiction_ on one of the movie channels and insisted Tim watch it.

"It's a classic. Watch and learn, Replacement."

Surprisingly, Tim did as Jason asked and soon both were engrossed in the movie. I wasn't a huge _Pulp Fiction_ fan (a bit too dark for me), so it was easy to concentrate on my "reading."

I actually was reading the books Tim and I hadn't made it through, but I made sure to take my time about it and really stare at the pictures. In case anyone happened to be watching, I would often trace my fingers over the outlines of the pictures or randomly point at things and mutter to myself. I would also turn the books upside down and claim I was "reading." I felt pretty confident no one would catch on that my brain hadn't de-aged along with my body.

I was in the middle of my upside-down reading of _Where the Wild Things Are_, when Bruce came into the room. Out of the corner of my eye, I saw him smile at my reading. But then he glanced up at the TV (where the movie was in an especially not-child-friendly scene) and had a fit.

"What are you watching?" Before either Tim or Jason could respond, Bruce dashed over to the TV and turned it off.

"Hey!" But Jason was cut short.

"There is a child in the room!" Bruce shouted. "I ask you two to watch him for a couple hours and you expose him to _that_." Bruce gestured at the now-blank TV. "That movie is barely appropriate for Tim, let alone Dick in that state." Despite us being crime fighters, Bruce had ridiculous ideas about movies. Yeah, you only had to be 17 to see an R-rated movie, but Bruce seemed to think we all needed to be 30.

"No child should see _Pulp Fiction_," Bruce finished with disgust.

"He wasn't paying attention anyway," Jason defended lamely.

But Tim was prepared with more logical arguments. "Bruce, Dick isn't actually a child. He just got de-aged, but he's really in his twenties. He'll be an adult in a month or so. It's not like he's really two. We weren't corrupting a child!"

"Yeah, that ship done sailed," Jason added.

Bruce glared at Jason, who held up his hands defensively. "Only kidding. Sheesh. And I was talking about fighting violent criminals anyway."

Bruce fixed Jason with a final glare and a quiet growl and turned to Tim.

"Nice try, Tim. That's good reasoning, but Dick could still get nightmares. And we have no idea how inappropriate material will affect his psyche and how that will affect him when he returns to normal."

"Seriously, Bruce?" Jason snorted. "That's beyond ridiculous."

"Yeah," Tim agreed. "Dick probably won't even remember this when he returns to normal. That's usually how it is. I hardly think he's going to be damaged for the rest of his life."

Bruce shook his head sadly. "Well, it's better to be safe than sorry. Now apologize."

"For what!?" Jason nearly shrieked.

"Subjecting Dick to inappropriate material."

"Are you serious?"

"Do I look serious?" Of course, he did. Bruce always looked serious.

Jason sighed. "Fine. Little Dickie, I'm sorry I showed you a bad movie."

I smiled at Jason. "S'okay, Jay. I wuv you." And I slid off the couch and ran over to him for a hug.

Jason did not seemed inclined to pick me up and hug back, but a glance from Bruce forced him to do otherwise. He picked me up, we hugged, and he put me back down before the hug had barely registered. _I really need to teach Jason to hug better_.

"Tim," Bruce prompted.

"I'm sorry you had to see that movie, Dickie."

I toddled up to Tim. "S'okay. I wuv Timmy."

Tim, thankfully, picked me up without any prompting and gave me a proper hug.

Bruce seemed satisfied. "Dickie, do you want to go play?"

"Yeeeaaaaa!"

* * *

That evening, we were watching the news in the entertainment room. Well, I was playing with my toys, Damian was listening to his iPod, Jason was napping on the couch, and Tim was surfing the internet on his laptop. But Bruce was watching the news.

Suddenly, Jason gave a theatrical sniff. "You guys smell something?"

I gulped.

Tim paused in his surfing and sniffed loudly. "Yeah, I do. It's kind of gross."

"Yeah, it smells like butt," Jason said. "Or," and he grinned a bit maliciously, "stinky over there needs a change."

"Bruce, Dick pooped himself," Jason announced, way too loudly for my taste.

Bruce turned away from the news and looked at me. "Dickie, do you need a new diaper?"

I nodded quietly. _Well, this is embarrassing_.

Seemingly out of nowhere, Bruce produced a new diaper, an old towel, and some baby wipes. "Come here, Dickie; let's get you changed."

I looked at Bruce. _Changed? Here in the middle of the living room? In front of my brothers?_

I didn't care how "old" I was – I did not want my brothers to see me with poop on my butt. No way. I needed to preserve some dignity.

So I took action. "No."

Bruce looked startled. "Come on. I'll be fast."

I shook my head. "No."

"Oh come on. Surely you don't want to stay in that smelly diaper."

_True, but…_ "No." I added a foot stomp this time.

Bruce frowned slightly. "Now, Dickie, we need to change your diaper. Come here."

I shook my head.

"One." _Bruce was counting_?

"No."

"Two."

I didn't move. Seriously, what was he going to do to me? And I had my dignity to maintain.

"Two-and-a-half." _Yep, Bruce had no plan of action for disobedience_.

"Two-and-three-quarters."

Before Bruce could count "two-and-seven-eighths," Alfred entered the room.

"Master Bruce, even a toddler deserves some privacy," he said with a sigh. Looking at me, he added, "Come, Master Dick, let's get you changed."

I looked curiously at him, and Alfred made a "come-with-me" hand gesture. I toddled over, and he took my upstairs.

After changing my diaper, Alfred sat me on the edge of the changing table and looked into my eyes. "Now then, Master Dick, everything is not what it seems, is it?"

"Whaa?" I asked.

"I saw you at breakfast. You knew the cereal was gone before Master Bruce told you in 'baby talk.' What is going on?"

I shrugged. "Na shure."

"Can you talk properly?"

"No. My mouf won co-whop, co-whop-er-."

"Co-operate," Alfred supplied.

"Ya." And that was annoying. My body didn't seem fully connected to my brain. After all, I would much rather use the toilet than diapers! But I just couldn't control it.

"But your mind is normal?"

I nodded, then tapped my head. "Big Dickie in here." I pointed to my chest. "Lil Dickie here."

Alfred smiled wryly. "This is certainly a new development. We haven't had this particular situation before."

"Nope."

"Well, Master Dick, I shall endeavor to help you preserve your dignity, at least as regards changing. You're on your own concerning clothing."

I grinned. "S'okay." _Really, I didn't mind wearing Lian's clothes. After all, I look good in all colors, even princess-pink and fairy-purple_.

Alfred looked thoughtful. "Besides, Master Bruce does seem to be enjoying this, doesn't he?"

"Ya." I nodded vigorously. Alfred and I shared a conspiratory smile.

"Well, then perhaps you can help me to keep Master Bruce from wearing himself ragged policing Gotham. Babies are a lot of work, you know."

I giggled. It didn't even take an adult mind to catch Alfred's drift. He wanted me to use my state of toddlerdom to keep Bruce out of harm's way. Make the man take a vacation, so to speak.

"And I assure you, Master Dick, that you have my full support – within reason, of course." _Guess this isn't the time to take Bruce bungee-jumping_.

"Dweal." I held out my pinkie.

Alfred looked confused until he remembered the ritual from my childhood (the first time around). He locked pinkies with me.

"Deal, Master Dick. I pinkie swear."

"Me too."

Alfred picked me up and started downstairs. He stopped outside the entertainment room door and set me on my feet. "Remember the task at hand," he whispered before walking off towards the kitchen and leaving me to distract Bruce from crime fighting.

* * *

I got my first big break at bedtime. Bruce, of course, was a tad negligent on that end, and didn't even start trying to herd me off to bed until after ten o'clock at night.

Even though my baby body was feeling tired, I was ready to put up a fight.

"Okay, Dickie, let's get you in your crib," Bruce said pleasantly after he had brushed my teeth and put on my pajamas.

"Nooooo, it ouchy!" I wailed.

Bruce patted my back soothingly. "Not anymore. We lined it with pillows and blankets. It will be cozy and warm."

"No." I squirmed in his arms, which caught Bruce off guard. He relaxed his hold just enough for me to jump.

"Dickie!" he shouted, horrified that I was about to hurt myself.

He needn't have worried. My acrobatics weren't up to snuff, but I could easily handle a drop from six measly feet. I landed on my feet (like a cat) and ran off, quickly dashing onto a high ledge. Bruce panicked when he saw me there.

"Dickie, get back! Get back! You'll kill yourself!"

"No," I pouted.

"Come back from there, please?"

"No."

"ALFRED!"

But it was Tim who showed up at the top of the stairs. "Alfred's busy, Bruce, so he sent me. What's up?"

Bruce pointed at me. "He's going to kill himself."

Tim looked concerned but still managed to roll his eyes. "Bruce, he's an acrobat."

"Not when he was two!"

"I bet he was." Tim sighed and turned to me. "Come on, Dickie, come back."

I shook my head. "No."

Tim tried pleading with me, but I was immoveable. Finally, Tim asked Bruce what was wrong.

"He won't sleep in his crib. He says it hurts."

"Did you put pillows in it?"

"Yes, but he refuses to sleep there."

Tim shrugged. "Maybe he wants to sleep in a big bed."

Understanding dawned on Bruce's face. He crept over to me. "Dickie, do you want to sleep in a big-boy bed?"

"No."

Bruce sighed and gave Tim a look that said, "see what I have to put up with."

Tim shrugged. "Ask him what he wants to do, maybe."

"Anything's worth a shot. Dickie, where do you want to sleep?"

I grinned broadly and pointed at Bruce. "Sweep wif you!"

"With me?" Bruce seemed a tad surprised.

I nodded. "Yea, wif you."

"Well, okay. Come on."

I crawled back into Bruce's arms. True to his word, he carried me into his bedroom. Tim followed. Bruce made a cocoon of pillows, and then placed me inside of them. _I guess he's worried I'll roll off the bed_.

"Okay, Dickie. Good night."

"No! Stowy!"

Very obligingly, Bruce told me the story of the "Three Little Pigs." Then he gave me a hug and kiss.

As he started to slide off the bed, I began to wail. "Nooo, you sweep too!"

"What?" Bruce asked, surprised.

"You sweep! Sweep wif me!"

"Right now?" Bruce glanced at Tim, who looked perplexed.

"Sweep! Sweep!" I demanded, pounding my little fist on a nearby pillow.

"Dickie, it's too ear-."

"It's almost 11:30," Tim offered.

"Really?"

"Yeah, time flies when dealing with toddlers."

Bruce shot Tim a look, then turned to me. "Okay, Dickie, let daddy get some pajamas on."

"You're going to sleep now?" Tim was incredulous.

"It is getting late," Bruce lamely offered. "And besides, it's making Dickie so happy."

He was right about that. I was grinning like an idiot and clapping my hands for joy.

Tim frowned. "You're spoiling him, Bruce. He's going to be a brat."

Bruce smirked. "I don't believe I have to worry about that, Timothy. As you so eloquently pointed out this morning, Dick is already an adult. If I spoil him now, he won't grow up to be a brat because he's already grown up."

"But, the movie -."

"This is different," Bruce said and steered Tim out of his room without another word.

Minutes later, he was in bed beside me in the dark, quiet room.

"Good night, Dickie." He kissed my forehead.

"Nigh, night daddy." And with a small smile of victory on my face, I drifted off to sleep.

* * *

**Okay, I think I'm going to make this de-aging/shrunk tale its own story. That way I can update it for as long as the muse strikes me, and keep "A Bunch of Ridiculousness" focused on Dick and Company's twenty-something (or teenage, depending on the character) shenanigans. **

**Plus, I want to send Tiny Dick and friends to Disney. And since this story already had a Disney moment, I think it should be in a separate entry. Disney might be overdone, but I love it, so the Bats are going back! Stay tuned!**

**Any suggestions for a title?**


	17. Model?

**This is for Binx23, who suggested: "Dick getting spotted and offered a modeling contract and get hit on, and the batfam trying to protect his non-existent virtue." I didn't exactly follow that, but I tried.**

**If you're looking for Shrunk, I've made it its own story! Check it out - it's called "Shrunken Shenanigans." Many thanks to firstar28 for the title!**

**And my apologies to anyone I did not personally thank for their review. I got distracted! I'll try to be better from now on.**

**For the purposes of this fic, no one has scars. Why? Magic? The power of money and technology? The universe dares not sully the beauty of the Bat-clan? You decide.**

**Also, pretend Dick never had a (however brief) modeling career.**

* * *

It was a lovely day at the beach. Bruce, of course, was sitting under the umbrella trying not to get sunburned and fretting about how they were all going to get skin cancer. He had his iPhone alarm set to go off every half hour, at which point he would loudly yell for Dick, Jason, Tim, and Damian to come put on more sunscreen. Although they all complained, they all did it.

In between half-hour interruptions, Jason was flirting with a couple of girls who were liberally tattooed and body-pierced. Tim was snorkeling with his underwater camera, trying to get a few nice shots. Dick and Damian were skimboarding – or, in Damian's case, attempting to skimboard.

"Oof." Damian landed, yet again, on his backside as the skimboard slipped out from underneath his feet. "Grayson!" he shouted indignantly.

Dick, whose perfect balance enabled him to skimboard with ease, turned around. "You fall again, Little D?" he grinned.

"I did not fall. The board rudely cast me overboard."

With a chuckle, Dick stepped off his own board and came over to assist Damian. "Well, I guess we'll just have to let this board know who's boss."

Picking the board up with one hand, Dick wagged his index finger at it with the other. "Now see here, skimboard: it's rude to keep dumping Damian off. Behave yourself or you'll get a time-out on shore." He handed the board back to Damian. "Better now?"

Damian snatched the board out of Dick's hand. "You're an idiot, Grayson."

"You're welcome," Dick replied cheerily as he watched Damian attempt – and promptly fail – to skimboard.

As Damian was dumped into the surf, he emerged to find a slim female handing being held out to him. "Can I help you, sweetie?"

"Tt. I don't need help," Damian sneered, picking himself up.

"Oh okay." The woman, tall, willowy, blonde, with a designer swimsuit and sunglasses, immaculately-manicured nails, and a full face of make-up, watched Damian as he stood and retrieved his skimboard.

"Can I help you, wench?" Damian finally barked at her.

Although she was taken aback, she had enough poise not to let it show. "Is that handsome man over there your daddy?" she cooed, pointing.

Damian followed her finger. "Grayson! God no. That's my brother."

"Oh, your brother. How delightful." The woman seemed even more pleased to realize Dick was not Damian's dad. "I have a question for him. Could you please introduce us?"

Damian was about to insult the woman and claim he wasn't her errand boy when he remembered that Father and Grayson were always on him to be more polite. "Fine," he huffed. "Follow me."

"Thank you," the woman purred.

Although Dick was not far away, Damian went a few feet before shouting, "Grayson, this harlot wants to speak with you!"

"Damian," Dick hissed, as everyone within a fifty-foot radius turned to stare at them, "that's not polite."

"I have more important things to tend to than social niceties," Damian remarked, before dashing away.

"Sorry about him," Dick apologized. "He's …."

"It's okay," the woman smiled. The she stuck out her hand. "Kelly McClintock, McClintock and Cole Modeling Agency."

Dick shook her hand. "Dick Grayson. Nice to meet you, Ms. McClintock."

Ms. McClintock grinned. "It's Miss, but you can call me Kelly."

"Kelly. And call me Dick. What can I do for you?"

"Have you ever considered modeling, Mr. Gray -. Dick?"

"Not really."

"You really should. You have the perfect look. Chiseled features, high cheekbones, and the body of a Greek god. I can see you on the Calvin Klein billboard in Times Square." She closed her eyes. "Yes, I can."

"Really?"

"Oh, god yes. Think of how much underwear you could sell."

Dick rubbed the back of his head. "Umm, does Calvin Klein really need help selling underwear?"

"Of course!" Kelly replied, a bit too quickly. "But really, honey, that's not the point."

"It isn't?"

"No. A body like that," she paused to run her finger up and down in the air, "needs to be celebrated."

"You think so?" Dick was somewhat interested. After all, modeling was easy money (right?), and it would keep him in Nightwing gear.

"Grayson, are you still talking to this Barbie?" Damian suddenly demanded.

"Damian, be nice," Dick insisted. "She wants me to model underwear for her agency. Isn't that cool?"

Damian reared back in shock. "No, that is not cool. That is a stain on the family honor."

"What?" Dick and Kelly said simultaneously.

"Todd! Drake! Get over here!" Damian shouted across the beach. Surprisingly, both came running.

"This w-"

"Damian," Dick interrupted in a warning tone.

"This female wants to make Grayson an underwear model," Damian sputtered.

"What?" Jason gasped. "Why him?"

Kelly gave Jason a "have-you-seen-him" look, but otherwise made no reply.

"Todd, don't be an imbecile," Damian insisted. "If Grayson is a model, his naked flesh will be seen by millions."

"Yes, it will," Kelly said dreamily.

"That is a disgrace. He will be tainted. Soiled."

"Whoa, kid, calm down," Jason insisted. "Nobody's whoring Goldie out here."

"He does have a point, though, Jason. Being a billboard model entails a lot of exposure. Exposure that we can't afford." Tim left "the whole Batman thing" unsaid.

"That's why it should be me! I don't wear my clothes nearly as tight as bro here."

Kelly leaned over to ask a question of Dick while his three brothers continued to argue over the merits of modeling.

"It's demeaning!"

"It's walking a fine line."

"It's easy money and you'll be rolling in ladies."

"I will not allow Grayson to pimp himself out like that."

"Guys, I'm right here," Dick finally cut in. Before anyone could reply, Bruce shouted at them. Apparently another half hour had passed.

Dick turned to Kelly. "Gotta go. Sunscreen time."

Although she was slightly confused, Kelly smiled and offered Dick her card. "Call me. Anytime."

"Sure, thanks."

"And let me get your number for my phone, if you don't mind."

"Sure, it's -."

"DICK," Bruce shouted. He turned to the other boys. "Why isn't he coming? Does he want to get melanoma?"

"That harlot is trying to whore Grayson out on a billboard, Father."

"It's called modeling, Demon Spawn."

"Modeling?" Bruce was not pleased. When Dick arrived back at the umbrella, he glared at him. "What took you so long?"

"This woman wants me to model for her agency. Cool, right?"

"No."

"No, what? No, it's not cool or no no."

"No no. Absolutely no modeling."

"But -."

"No, it's crass and potentially dangerous and … No. Just no." Bruce had no desire to see his son, naked save for a pair of CK briefs, in 150 by 200 feet of Times Square glory.

Dick pouted. "But she said I'd sell lots of underwear."

Bruce paled. "We're leaving."

"What?"

"Boys, get the umbrella, towels, and chairs. I'm calling Alfred."

The boys groaned as they gathered up their beach materials.

"Way to go, Goldie," Jason said.

"It's not my fault Bruce overreacts!"

"But he's right," Tim offered. "It's too much exposure."

"Yeah," Dick agreed. He was only a bit disappointed. He had never really believed Bruce would let him model anyway. A giant billboard was just asking for people to overanalyze your abs and start putting two and two together when it came to vigilantes.

"You're just jealous," Jason sneered, as they started trooping towards the car.

"Me?! You're the jealous one!" Tim spat back.

Dick leaned over and elbowed Jason. "Hey, she said she was also interested in doing a double spread with my brother."

"Oh, yeah?" Jason's curiosity was piqued.

"Hey! She might have meant me!" Tim insisted, narrowing his eyes at Jason.

Dick laughed and ruffled Tim's hair. "While you are handsome, Tim, she said she was interested in including a 'bad boy' in the spread."

"And that's me," Jason announced proudly.

"Well what am I?" Tim asked, a bit hurt the agent was more interested in Jason than him.

"I would say 'All-American,'" Dick pronounced.

"Then what are you?"

Dick gazed at the sky. "Classically handsome," he breathed.

"Pretty boy," Jason snorted.

"Call it whatever you like, Jason, but I believe I'm the one with, and I quote, 'chiseled features, high cheekbones, and the body of a Greek god.'"

"Stupid, Goldie, prettier than me," Jason groused under his breath.

"What am I then?" Damian suddenly asked, a bit annoyed he had been left out of the conversation.

"Ten," Bruce ground out.

The three older boys laughed as Bruce began stalking towards the car at a more rapid pace.

"That's not an answer!" Damian insisted.

"If you drink your milk and eat your Wheaties, Demon Spawn, maybe you can grow up to be as pretty as Goldie here," Jason suggested, poking Damian in the back with the beach umbrella.

"Tt. I am genetically perfect, Todd. I will outstrip you all."

Tim rolled his eyes. "So what's Bruce? Because that's what Damian has to look forward to."

"Tall, dark, and handsome?" Jason suggested.

"Smouldering," Dick said decisively.

Tim began to laugh as Bruce turned around and gave Dick a particularly baleful look. Dick just grinned cheekily back at Bruce.

As they were climbing into the back of the car, Dick glanced up at Bruce as he passed. "You know, we should send the agent your picture right now."

"Why?" Bruce grunted.

"Because you're beautiful when you're angry," Dick teased, slipping into the limo before Bruce could retaliate.

Of course, Bruce had already retaliated by blocking the modeling agency's phone number on the cellphones of all his sons (even Damian's, just for good measure). And within a month, all the boys had forgotten about the incident.

But Bruce hadn't forgotten. And when Kelly had called, he had met her at her New York office. After he made it clear, in no uncertain terms, that she should stay away from his boys, he had her photographer take a few pictures of him (to prevent the enraged Mr. Wayne from suing the company for harassing his sons). Bruce had to admit his pictures looked good. He just hoped Selina would like them – the woman was terribly difficult to shop for.

* * *

**Selina's probably not difficult to shop for (just buy her stuff with cats on it), but let's pretend!**


End file.
